


Good Times

by ItsYaBoiKeith (PetalsAndPurity)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Drug Addiction, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Major Character Injury, Multi, Musician Lance (Voltron), Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), another band au, especially me, everyone's a mess, james and keith are bff's, james is best boi, keith works in a guitar shop, minor keith/oc's, past lance/nyma - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-03-01 11:49:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 91,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18799765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetalsAndPurity/pseuds/ItsYaBoiKeith
Summary: "Who the fuck do you think you are?!" Keith pushed Lance into the wall."Lance McClain, singer, songwriter, rockstar," he muttered, the corner of his mouth tilting up. "Who are you? A groupie?"Keith thought he had the lead singer of 'Paladins' all worked out; he was arrogant, rude, and a complete asshole.That is, until Keith finds himself stranded out in the middle of the night after yet another argument with his brother and his brother's new fiance. When it's Lance that comes to the rescue, Keith realises that actually, he might not be so bad after all.-(Or, another angsty Voltron band AU in which Keith and Lance don't want each other to find out about their private lives, but somehow manage to spill all their darkest secrets to each other anyway.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This song is very much inspired by Good Times by All Time Low, and really the whole album it belongs to fits the mood of this fic tbh. 
> 
> TW for this chapter: mention of drugs. 
> 
> Also please note that there are mentions of Keith sleeping with oc's throughout the fic. It's all 100% consensual (though Keith using it as a coping mechanism is very unhealthy) unless I state otherwise at the start of the chapter! (There's only one instance where it veers towards non-con, again, I'll give plenty of warning when that chapter comes up.) None of it is in graphic detail though!

  Keith finished clipping the last string of the guitar, giving it to the man in front of him with a tired sigh. “Y’know, you could have easily done that yourself,” he muttered, voice barely audible over the loud music and sounds of the air con. 

  He earns a lopsided smile and a shove in reply. 

  “I could, but you always do it so much better.” James plucked a few strings in a vague tune, grimacing a little. “Besides, you might as well if you’re replacing the pegs. You don’t have anything better to do.” He looked around at the near empty shop, flicking a few stray flecks of brown hair from his eyes as he did so.  

  Save the two of them, there was only a middle aged man checking out the cheaper acoustic guitars with his little boy, who seemed to only be interested in the colourful fenders adorning the walls, much to his father’s exasperation.

  It was so quiet today that even his co-worker, Matt, had left home early, claiming that he just  _ needed _ to complete the next level of his video game now or it would  _ kill _ him. 

  Keith didn’t mind. It meant he wasn’t listening to vine compilations coming out of Matt’s shitty phone speaker for the four hours left of his shift, at least. 

  “I guess,” Keith muttered, swinging his legs back and forth, nudging James on the leg as he did so. James slapped his shin gently. 

  “Shiro’s gonna kill you for sitting up there when he starts,” James muttered, setting his phone next to where Keith sat on the counter, beginning to tune his guitar. 

  “When isn’t he gonna kill me, though?” Keith sighed. 

  James whistled, moving on to the next string. “You’re both  _ still _ arguing? This is a record, you both usually forgive each other overnight.”

  Keith sighs, picking at the frayed fabric of his ripped jeans, something else Shiro was probably going to have an issue with because it wasn’t  _ professional enough.  _ He never used to have an issue, not until a couple of years ago.

  “He just forgets I’m not a little kid anymore.”

  “At least he cares,” James muttered, watching the father bring down an acoustic guitar, giving them both a look. Keith nods and gestures as though to say ‘go ahead’ and he sits down, plucking a few strings as his boy watches eagerly.  

  Keith hummed, continuing to watch the father hand the boy the guitar, helping him position the guitar to rest on his lap, moving his fingers in to position and handing him a pick, before helping him strum. The boy laughs, doing it again, and again, and again. 

  James himself strums a chord, more on-key than the boy’s, of course, before locking his phone and pushing it into his jean pocket, flashing Keith a dimpled smile. “Thanks, I need to wear her in now, before the show tonight.”

  “You’re playing a show?” Keith asked.

  “Yeah, I told you when we went out last week? When you were all over that guy with the red hair?” James recalled, tapping a finger on his bottom lip as he tried to remember the details. “Actually, you were kinda drunk. You probably don’t remember. Matt’s gonna do our sound - he’s sisters with one of the members, so he’s already doing theirs.” He smiled a little, before frowning and continuing his ramble. “Uh, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to come. With Shiro. If it’s not going to be too awkward - it’ll be good! We’re supporting that band I like. Y’know, Paladins?”

  How could Keith not know the local band that’s breaking through into fame right now? Paladin’s were all anyone talked about in this area, about how they were edging their way in the rock charts and landing support with a few well known bands. They’d even recently signed a record deal with  _ Altea _ .

  “You landed support with  _ them _ ?!” Keith raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

  “We did!” James’s eyes lit up with excitement. Paladin’s were one of James’s favourite bands. Their debut, and only, album never left James’s car stereo. Keith was sure he unintentionally knew every lyric to every song. “I even have two spare tickets. It would be great to have someone to support me, y’know?”

  “You should have said, I’d have bought tickets so your parents-” Keith cut himself off at James’s awkward shuffle, gritting his teeth. “Wait, they don’t want to come,  _ again _ ?”

  “No.” James smiled all too widely, not looking Keith in the eye. “I mean, they’re busy with more important things and I don’t want them cramping my style, right? We’re not school kids, anymore, Keith. We don’t need our parents waiting in the front row.”

  Except, when Keith and James used to play on stage for college gigs, shortly after Keith moved into the area, everyone’s parents  _ but _ theirs were in the front row. 

  “Of course I’ll come,” Keith smiled. “I mean, if you’d have told me sooner, I’d have bought my own tickets, put up a few posters in the shop for you! I’d have gotten the locals to come - Thace is  _ always _ up for a gig. Hey, I’ll call him if he’s up for it, he’s got some friends-”

  “Ah, well, it sold out really quick,” James cut through before Keith’s rare moment of excitement made him dial the mans number there and then. “Before I got the chance to ask you to come. It’s a good thing I got these, though! It might help you and Shiro, too. It’s been  _ ages _ since you’ve both gone out together, just you two, right?”

  “Yeah,” Keith sighed. Shiro was always so busy manning their music shop after so suddenly becoming the only owner a couple of years ago, or going on dates with his boyfriend to worry about his foster brother anymore. 

  Pushing those thoughts away, Keith nudged James with his foot again. “Your first sold out show, huh? I’ve got to be there!”

  “Got to be where, Keith?” Shiro pushed through the door, his tone flat, bordering on apathetic. “Oh, hi James!” Shiro perked up considerably, stepping over to the two, wiping sweat from his brow. “Off! How many times have I told you it’s not professional!” Shiro nudged Keith off the counter, tutting. 

  “Alright, I’m off,” Keith grumbled. “Oh, James was just inviting us to go to his show. He’s got a couple of spare tickets.”

  “I can’t, I’m busy,” Shiro began to shut off, folding his arms. 

  “I didn’t even tell you when it was?” Keith muttered, folding his arms.

  “Tonight, right? I’m busy.”

  “Doing what?” Keith pressed. 

  “Keith, not in front of customers, okay?” Shiro hissed, gesturing to the father and his kid, the kid watching his father play with mesmerized eyes. It made Keith’s heart ache and he turned away quickly. “Besides, you can’t say  _ shit _ after what you do every night,” he muttered with a lowered tone. 

  “Fuck you,” Keith hissed, only to have Shiro brush past him, ignoring him completely. The stock room door slammed shut shortly after.

  “Ouch,” James muttered, rubbing his arm awkwardly. “Uh, wanna take your break and cool off?”

  Keith merely nodded, still staring at the stockroom door. He should probably stay for the father and his son, they looked like they were going to want to buy the guitar soon, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at the two any longer. 

  James gripped onto his hand tightly and flashed him a smile, dragging him out of the store. 

 

-

 

  Keith leans his head against the car window, the neon lights displaying the name of the venue coming into sight, finally. He breathed shallowly, conscious of the strong smell of weed that clouded over the car, that was quite frankly  _ filthy, _ with fast food wrappers littering the floor, some popular radio station blaring so loud Keith could feel it pulsing in his chest. 

  He’d ended up hitching a ride to the venue with a guy he barely remembers hooking up with, but had text him not long after they did, apparently wanting to meet up again. Keith had remembered seeing the message a couple of days after they’d hooked up, when he’d still felt the pain of the bruise on his collarbone.

  He probably shouldn’t have called him, but after getting into an argument with Shiro  _ again _ the moment he’d stepped into the lounge to announce he was leaving to go to the venue (making sure that Shiro was  _ certain _ he didn’t want to tag along), and  _ Curtis _ had gotten involved, he wasn’t really thinking straight, and had called the first name that had come up on his contacts.

  The guy, Alex, apparently, pulls into the car park, almost crashing into the wall, where already a few fans were queuing outside. Keith tries to leave the second the engine shuts off, but Alex complains about not getting a kiss as a thank you. Keith didn’t find it in himself to care anymore, even less so to get into another argument, and leaned through the car to give him what he wanted. Keith pulled away before the man could grab the back of his head and pull him back into the car, fist clenching, ready to punch him in the face.

  Thankfully, James had spotted him, and ran over, causing his friend and bassist, Ryan, to almost drop the heavy amp they were both trying to carry inside.

  Keith is thankful, though not surprised that James doesn’t need their usual signal to pull him out the car and the man’s grip, hugging him and pecking him on the lips as though they were together. He gripped Keith’s arm firmly, but gently, and dragged him away from the man he  _ definitely _ shouldn’t have even approached back when they’d first met.

   James doesn’t speak of it, only giving his hand a small squeeze before reaching into his pocket and handing him a lanyard so that they could enter the venue together. James pretends not to hear Ryan calling for him to come back and help with the “heavy-ass amp”.

  Inside comes the thud of a bass drum, jumping to various jarring frequencies that make Keith’s headache that had formed when arguing with Shiro bite back with a vengeance, making him wince, before falling into one which sounds more pleasant, but was definitely too  _ loud. _

  Keith doesn’t get a good look at the band who were the cause of the noise, as James was already taking him to the back. 

  “I take it you and Shiro still haven’t made up then?” James pushed him into the toilets, leaning against the sink. He already had his stage makeup on for the show, despite it being a good hour before doors; just a dark smudge of eyeliner on his upper and lower waterline, bringing out the blue in his eyes. It was Keith’s idea, one night after too many shots, to put makeup on him. Despite many accidental eye-pokes and smudges, James actually ended up liking it. It had taken him a lot of courage to go up on stage and wear it, however. Keith had managed to convince him that it was fine, that people weren’t as uptight and traditional as his father. 

  “No. We actually argued again. Before I left.”

  James sighed, crossing his arms, and Keith felt very much like he was a preteen standing in front of Shiro’s mother, after getting a call saying Keith was caught ditching class  _ again _ . “So you hitched a ride with a dodgy hookup?” He shook his head. “Idiot, you should have called me. I’d have given you a lift, or money for a bus-”

  “I didn’t want to bother you, sorry,” Keith muttered, lowering his gaze.

  James sighed, tempted to give Keith a lecture, but of course he’d only just managed to get Keith to finally start opening up to him about all this... _ trouble _ he liked to get himself into. He didn’t want to ruin that, so he simply muttered a small: “I know.”

  There was a silence between the two, teetering and threatening to fall to uncomfortable. Keith spoke quickly before it could.

  “How’d you get this gig, anyway?”

  “Oh! Funny story,” James laughed, before pausing. “Wait, what do you mean  _ how _ ?! Our amazing musicianship, that’s how! Obviously.”

  Keith laughed, making James smile a little. “Of course, James. Now tell me the real reason.”

  “Veronica.”

  “Veronica?”

  “Yeah, our new manager? She forgot to drop that her brother is the lead singer of Paladins. And their usual support dropped out...something about a different tour with a different band or whatever, confusing, considering-”

  “James.” Keith pulled James back before he could begin rambling.   


  “Right, anyway, she got them to book us instead!” His eyes lit up with excitement as he bounced a little on his feet, and Keith couldn’t help but smile.

  “That’s great, James. I’m really happy for you guys.”

  “-Pidge is a bitch!” Keith was knocked by the bathroom door being slammed open, falling into James, the other only just able to keep them up, slamming into the sinks with a cry. 

  “Shit!” The man muttered, staring at them both with wide eyes. Keith and James blinked, still clutching onto each other.

  Keith pulled himself off of James, stomping the two steps over to the man. “What the  _ fuck _ ?” Keith snapped. “Watch what you’re doing!”

  “Maybe if you didn’t make out in the  _ bathroom _ against the  _ door _ when people are gonna be using it, you won’t have that problem,” he snapped back, bringing his face up to Keith. “Real classy, huh?!”   


  “Who do you think you are?!” Keith pushed Lance into the wall. 

  “Lance McClain: singer, songwriter, rockstar,” Lance muttered with a smirk. “Who are  _ you _ ? A groupie?”

 

-

 

  Keith took a sip of beer, his cheek still aching. ‘Lance McClain: singer, songwriter,  _ asshole _ ’ hadn’t punched him, no. James had slapped them both before they had a chance to brawl it out in the slimy, graffiti-ridden bathroom, and kicked them out. 

  He watched James stand on the stage, plucking his guitar to tune it whilst speaking into his microphone. Nadia tried to throw a drumstick at him, missing him. Ryan retrieved it and hit her over the head with it, before giving it back to her.

  Keith checked his phone. He’d gotten no reply from Shiro, even though he’d text him to let him know he was at the venue, hoping to get a response to at least ease his nerves and self-doubt a little. Shiro had read it (he hadn’t quite gotten the grasp of ‘read receipts’ yet - he and Adam used to always laugh about how terrible with technology he was), but he hadn’t responded. He must be busy with Curtis - as usual. 

  Keith grit his teeth, the sinking feeling in his stomach reappearing, and felt like he was going to throw up what little he’d eaten today. Of course Shiro hadn’t replied. The way Keith was treating him all the time...it wouldn’t be long until he was kicked out, like he should be.

  Eventually they played a couple of their songs through, and were happy with their sound. Matt, from the sound desk, gave them a thumbs up, and they left the stage. 

  James is about to head with the rest of the band to where Lance and his posse stood, but he caught Keith’s eye. Keith quickly turned away, hoping to somehow disappear from view, because James didn’t deserve to feel like he had to attach himself to Keith all the time. James being James, though, just had to turn on his heel the instant they met eyes.

  James looked to the half empty cup in Keith’s hand, a flash of sadness flickering over his eyes, before forcing a smile onto his face. “How did you get them to serve you alcohol before doors?”

  Keith shrugged. “I don’t know, but he’s my new best friend.”

  “Wow, I’m so hurt.” James placed a hand on his chest and faked a sob.

  Keith playfully rolled his eyes, before nodding to James’s guitar on stage; a sunburst fender. “What a nice guitar. It’s been stringed up so well. Whoever did that was an expert.”

  James pushed Keith playfully. “Nah, the guy who did it was a dick.” It was Keith’s turn to fake a sob, before they both burst into quiet laughter.

  Keith watched Lance talking with Matt, his voice so obnoxiously loud that he could hear from halfway across the venue, almost as grating as the squeaks of feedback from the faulty microphone earlier. 

  “So, is it okay if we let them in early? I mean, I know it’s half an hour until doors but it’s pouring it down outside and I don’t want anyone to get sick.” Keith found himself smiling a little at Lance’s words.

  “Give me fifteen minutes and a gremlin with glasses, and you have yourself a deal.”

  “PIDGE!”

  Keith felt his cup disappear from his grasp and glared at James, who was taking a sip from it, distracting him from the yells of Matt’s sister. “Congratulations, Griffin. You now owe me a drink.”

  “Ugh,” James rolled his eyes, taking another sip. “Why do you drink this stuff?” Another sip. “Rancid.”

  Keith pried the cup out of James’s shaking hands. “No drinking before you go on stage.”

  “But-”

  “Nope, we deal with your nerves like men.”

  James pouts, but Keith doesn’t give in. He watches Matt run past, dragging the drummer, Pidge, along with him. At the same time, a lady who looks similar to Lance, steps over, running a hand through her brown curls. 

  “Hey, you get my message?” She steps over, and Keith realises that she must be Veronica, the new manager James was talking about.

  “No, what is it?” James asked, immediately pulling out his phone to check. 

  “Romelle can’t make it to do merch, brother’s in hospital,” she explained. “Doors are opening in two minutes now thanks to my idiot brother and we can’t find  _ anyone _ to do it. Do you know or the others know anyone who can come in last minute? Lance tried a couple of his friends - I know, what a shock, he has  _ friends _ \- but they’re all working or already have plans.” She sighed. Keith smiled a little. He liked Veronica.

  “Uh,” James frowned. “I don’t think so. All I have is Keith.”

  His face lit up, and Keith took a step back as the two turned to him. 

  “No. No way.”

 

-

 

  Keith took it back. He hated Veronica just as much as her asshole of a brother. 

  He shoved a t-shirt into an overly excited fan’s hands with a sigh. Usually, he thought those fans were sweet. He remembered him and James being the exact same way when they snuck out of their shitty homes to escape and go to a gig together. But he still had a pounding headache and Shiro still hadn’t messaged him back yet. Keith was worried he’d  _ finally _ overstepped the line. 

  The show rushed by in a blur. James’s set was great, James’s obvious nerves seemed to fade halfway through the set, and the crowd responded really well. They bought a lot of demos and CDs.

  Paladins were surprisingly good. Keith was prepared for Lance to be cocky and a jerk to the crow, but he held everyone’s hands he could reach, looking completely at home on the stage. His voice was outstanding, too, reaching ranges that Keith didn’t think possible, all while strumming his electric blue guitar. He knew how to put on a show, and knew even better how to write lyrics, but Keith would never say it to his face in a million years.

  Though Keith’s gaze rarely left Lance, how he was running up and down the stage and dancing in the crowd, he did find the barman kept giving him looks. Keith tried to ignore him. He didn’t usually hook up with people when he was out with James; he didn’t want to ditch his best friend, especially not on an important night like tonight.

  Keith felt a buzz in his pocket during the set. It was Shiro. 

  Keith tore his gaze away from the four highly energetic and skilled musicians, tearing his gaze away from Lance in particular, to check the message. 

_ Shiro - ok. _

__ His stomach drops at the simple reply, ignoring the flashing lights as Paladins dramatically finish their set, the cheers from the crowd and screams of guitar seeming as though they were miles away. 

_ Keith - Are you angry with me? _

_   Shiro - What do you think, Keith? You leave almost every night and either come back so pissed you pass out in the hall, or you sleep with the first guy you see. You have no respect for yourself! And when Curtis or I show you any concern you just blow up on us! _

_   Keith - Sorry for being a disappointment I guess. _

_   Shiro - Whatever, Keith. _

_              Curtis and I are engaged. I proposed to him. I was gonna tell you in person but you’re never home anymore.  _

_   Keith - oh. _

_   Shiro - is that it? _

_              Unbelievable.  _

 

__ Keith pushes his phone back into his pocket with shaking hands, clenching his teeth. He seeks out James in the crowd, but can no longer find him. 

_ Fuck. _

__ Keith tries to still his shaking hands, catching Lance leaning up against the merch table. He’s with a short girl, and Keith watches as he places a shark-beanie over her head (which he certainly didn’t have earlier - had a fan given it to him?) and wouldn’t stop  _ talking, _ because she was obviously too shy to say anything back. As he serves the people around them, he listens in on their conversation in hope for a distraction from his conversation with Shiro. All he can hear is Lance saying how proud he was of her, with actual  _ feeling, _ Keith might add, telling her not to give up, and giving her a tight hug.

  Not long after, she left, and Lance gave her one more hug goodbye. Keith hadn’t realised he was still staring at Lance, until the man himself turned around and muttered a: “oh, so you did end up filling in for our merch, huh?”

  “Y-Yeah,” Keith stuttered, feeling his phone vibrate as he spoke. Someone was calling him. “Obviously,” Keith added, crossing his arms. The phone stopped vibrating, thank goodness.

  “Just don’t be a dick to our fans, okay?” Lance muttered, looking around, before spotting a particular boy in the crowd, talking to  _ James - there he is. _ Lance ran over and tackled the boy into a hug, screaming a name that Keith couldn’t quite hear, because whoever was calling him tried calling again. 

  He checked his phone. Three missed calls from Shiro, and one from Curtis flashed across the screen. Keith never even saved Curtis’s number to his phone (though he’d never told Shiro that), but he still knew from the number who it was. 

  Eventually, fans began to filter out. Keith grabs a few too many drinks at the bar after Veronica took over from him, thanking him for helping out. 

  He leans against the bar. James is talking to Lance and a fan, the two of them lifting her up onto their shoulders whilst Matt takes the photo. Keith was glad James was happy, for once. He decided that it would probably be wise to leave soon - he didn’t want his sour mood to bring James down after he’d finally been able to cheer up a little. 

  Though he felt panic clench his chest when he realised he had nowhere to go tonight. There was no way he was going to approach Shiro tonight. He wondered if there was any point in even going back - Shiro and Curtis were getting  _ married _ , and Keith was obviously in the way. As always. 

  “Here.” A plastic cup slid over to Keith. Keith turned to the barman. 

  “I didn’t order anything,” Keith frowned, trying to push it back. 

  “I know. It’s on me.” The corner of his pierced lips tilted upwards, his grey eyes sliding over Keith. Keith was about to throw the cup in the man’s face, for once  _ not _ in the mood to pick someone up, when he remembered he had no where to stay, again.

  Keith took a deep breath and glanced over to see James was still talking to Lance, the two laughing happily. There was no way Keith was gonna bunk round James and Ryan’s place, nor dump all his problems on James’s already loaded shoulders. 

  Keith forced a smirk and leant against the bar, letting their hands touch as he takes the drink for him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Keith?” James’s voice cutting through his thoughts made Keith pause, a car plummeting past him just before he’d stepped out into the road. “Are you okay? After last night? That guy looked pretty weird. He uh, he treated you okay, didn’t he?”
> 
> “I’m fine.” It wasn’t a lie, yet it wasn’t entirely the truth either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished the chapter early, so I thought I'd post it early 'cause why the heck not?
> 
> Another angsty chapter, so enjoy :)

  Mornings were always the worst for Keith.

  Particularly when he woke to the feeling of pressure crushing his skull, nausea clawing at the back of his sore throat. He was flattened under the man who’d taken him home, the stench of alcohol and sweat rampant in the air. Keith managed to pull himself away from the man - whoever he was, Keith was certain they’d not even had the time to exchange names before their lips were crushed together. He winced and rubbed his neck, stretching in hopes of easing the ache settling in his joints.

  Keith let out a long sigh, gathering his clothes from the floor and putting them on as quietly as he can, hoping not to disturb the snoring lump of blankets in the bed. He found his phone, thrown face down on the floor not so far from his boots, and checked it.

  There was only one more missed call from Shiro. It looked like he’d given up. Keith couldn’t blame him. There were also some texts from James.

 

   **_Griffin -_ ** _Where are you??? x_

_Nadia said she saw you go off with the barman? (Weird choice but okay). Remember to call me if you need me. I’ll be right there x_

 

Then, there was another, sent only ten minutes ago: _Call me._

  Keith shrugged on his jacket, not even looking back to who he’d sought comfort from last night. He shivered anyway at the memories starting to resurface, rubbing his arm. He just wanted to go home and have a hot shower, scrub his skin raw and sleep for the next five years, or even eternity.

   Instead, he called James as he walked down the street, feeling as though everyone walking past was watching him, that they’d known exactly what he’d done.

  After two rings, James answers, unusually chipper for an early morning start. It was one of the few things the two of them agreed on - mornings were something devised from the pits of hell.

  “Yo, Keith! Where are you right now?” James asked, the sound of traffic around him, maybe even the angry shout of a horn. He must be driving.

  “Uh, I’m near the music shop, actually.”

  “Are you on your way home?”

  Keith thought for a second, realising that he most definitely _wasn’t_ , because he wasn’t yet prepared to have _that_ conversation with Shiro, or worse, Curtis. He was walking aimlessly, no destination in mind. “No.”

  “Meet me by the shop. I’ll come pick you up and take you to mine. We need to talk.” James’s voice became serious, jarring against the group of teenage girls giggling as they all strolled past him.

  “About what?” He walked across a road, without so much as looking. If James or Shiro were there they’d have probably grabbed his arm and pulled him back, forcing him to stop. But they weren’t.

  “I uh, Shiro called me in a panic last night. He told me that he didn’t think you took him and Curtis getting engaged that well,” James almost sounded guilty, if it weren’t for the heavy sympathy laced in his tone.

  Shiro had most likely gotten James to talk to Keith and tell him what Keith had said. James would never do such a thing, however, no matter how much Shiro had asked, which Keith was thankful for. With that promise of keeping things between them unsaid to anyone else, however, James usually tried to persuade Keith to talk it out with Shiro instead, himself.

  “Keith?” James’s voice cutting through his thoughts made Keith pause, a car plummeting past him just before he’d stepped out into the road. “Are you okay? After last night? That guy looked pretty weird. He uh, he treated you okay, didn’t he?”

  “I’m fine.” It wasn’t a lie, yet it wasn’t entirely the truth either.

  There was a silence. Keith felt his heart sink a little; he’d managed to worry James as well as Shiro, now.

  “I see you.” With that, James hung up, and sure enough, a dark gray car pulled up next to him, blaring out the music Keith had heard last night.

  Keith climbed inside, doing up his seatbelt with a sigh after James gave him a subtle glance. One he heard the all-telling _click,_ James pulled away. “You could have asked to stay round mine if you didn’t wanna go home, y’know,” James mumbled, seeing right through Keith, as usual.

  “I know.” Keith sighed.

 

-

 

  Keith comes out of the shower, hardly able to breathe in the thick, steamy air, feeling at least a little bit better than he did upon first waking up this morning. He wraps the towel around his hips and journeys to James’s room, where some of his friends clothes were neatly laid out - colours picked specifically to Keith’s tastes (and probably the only two black items of clothing James owns).

  He puts them on quickly, not wanting to waste any more of James’s time, shrugging the sweatshirt over his head and curling the sleeves over his palm, the subtle scent of chamomile from James’s detergent soothing him.

  Keith walked into the lounge, the cuffs of the jeans slipping over his heels. James was sat on the couch, two mugs of green tea set on the coffee table. Keith took a seat, and James muted whatever was on the TV (he probably wasn’t paying attention to it anyway) and turned to Keith.

  Keith hiccuped, before feeling James engulf him into a hug.

  Keith didn’t tell James how he felt, why he felt like Shiro marrying Curtis was _too soon,_ too much to cope with. He didn’t voice his fears of what was going to happen next, how he was eventually most likely going to be kicked out of the place he’d called home for the past five years. It would all be a waste of breath; James had known Keith since they were two fucked up kids being pulled out of their lessons to do group therapy at school, they _understood_ each other. James knew what upset Keith, sometimes before Keith even knew himself, just like Keith knew when James was spiraling, and how to calm him down and get him breathing again.

  After what felt like an eternity, James was the first to break the hug, pulling away, though still keeping his hands on Keith’s arms, supplying him with something secure, something that would _stay_. His lips parted to speak, when the door crashed open. Keith jolted and James’s hands flew away, the door crashing so loud it almost made the flat shudder.

  There were voices, and before they knew it, Ryan was stepping inside, with Lance from last night in tow. The door clicked shut quietly, before someone else - Hunk, was it? Followed, wringing his hands nervously.

  “U-uh,” James stuttered, Keith frantically wiping at his eyes. “I thought you said you were going out to the _gym_?”

  “Well, Lance called, and uh, Coran and Veronica were scheming after the gig last night, and want us all to meet up. Just downtown at that coffee shop, Bamera, or something?”

  “Balmera,” Hunk corrected.

  James rubbed his temples. “We just _did_ a show yesterday, don’t we get a break? I’ve got five papers due next week. _Next week_!”

  “Well, apparently ‘Ron and Coran get on well together, and apparently they don’t know the concept of sleep,” Lance chuckled. “ They said it won’t take long.”

  “Why not send an email then?”

  “Coran doesn’t get out that much,” Hunk mumbled, as though that was a logical reason.

  “We’re meeting in fifteen minutes so we’d better get walking.” Ryan grabbed James’s leg and promptly tugged, causing him to squeak and fall off the couch.

  Keith laughed a little, but couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his chest. “I’ll, uh, I’ll get out of your way then,” he muttered, standing. From the floor, James grabbed onto his ankle.

  “Keith can come with us, right?” James asked, mainly directing it to Ryan.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “I mean, it depends,” Lance prowls over, narrowing his eyes at Keith and prodding him on the chest. “You’re not gonna let this information _leak_ are you? This is top secret. It gets leaked and we’re coming for-”

  “I get it!”

 

-

 

  The tinny sounds of pop music and shrill squeals of the coffee machine were nowhere near as grating as Lance’s voice as he attempts to flirt with the barista bringing over their drinks.

     Keith swiped his and James’s drink from the tray, both opting for tea - considering the ones James had made are probably stone cold on the coffee table right now - his elbow butting against Lance’s as he too reached for his drink (Keith’s teeth hurt just looking at the cup of pure _sugar_ ).

  “Watch it, Mullet! I spill this and you’re buying me another!” Lance growled, his breath (minty from where he’d stolen a mint from James’s car on the ride here, thank _goodness_ ) brushing against Keith’s face from how close they were crammed together in order to be able to fit two bands, two managers and Keith all in one booth with a small table propped on the end for a few extra seats.

  “ _Mullet_ ?! Is that really the best insult you can come up with?!” Keith bristled, almost regretting reassuring James that he was _fine_ squishing up next to Lance when he’d offered to sit between them to keep the tension as diffused as possible. _Almost_ , because he knew James would feel claustrophobic squished so tightly between two people, rather than sitting on the end, where he had at least a little space to breathe.

  “Guys!” James hissed, giving Keith in particular a glare.

  The girl across from them simply chuckled. She looked the picture image of Matt when he was younger. She must be Pidge. “No, let them fight. Please, I’ve been waiting to see Lance get socked in the face since the day we met.”

   _Yup,_ Keith thought, watching her sip at her black coffee and type on her phone as though she _hadn’t_ just said she wanted to see her (presumably) best friend get punched in the face by a stranger. _Definitely related to Matt._

  “I will put the peanut butter on the top shelf and tell Matt he can’t get it down for you,” Lance threatened darkly.

  “You wouldn’t,” Pidge reacted very much like Lance had threatened to kill her family. “Everyone, Lance once thought you could get pregnant from kissing. A girl kissed him on a date and he cried because he thought he got her pregnant-”

  “I was _ten_!” Lance threw out his hands, almost whacking Keith in the face. He did the same to Nadia, who was sitting the other side of him, causing her to get whip cream on her nose.

  “ _Anyway_ ,” a white haired girl, who Keith remembered to play the keys and sing backup in Lance’s and, cut through, quickly defusing the situation. James grabbed onto Keith’s fist and lowered it back down to the table. “What did you and Coran call us here for?” She asked, turning to Veronica, who was simply watching everything with an amused smile.

  The man with the orange hair, who had invited everyone to a _coffee_ shop, and didn’t even _order_ a coffee (sparkling water, of all things, Keith might add) lifted his head and beat Veronica to it.

  “Oh, yes! Of course. Veronica and I noticed how positive the reaction you all received last night was.”

  Veronica knocked back her espresso like a shot. “And we decided to organise a tour with you all together, across the country. It’ll be in December, six months from now, okay? If you have any ideas on a tour name, or any venues, let us know! Matt’s agreed to come and do sound-” Pidge groaned. “Romelle is going to do merch, but I think the MFE’s are gonna need a separate table, or at least, if we merge the two, we’re going to need two people there. We’ll be playing bigger venues than just our local forum, so you’re gonna have to find someone.” Veronica looked right at Keith as she spoke.

  As soon as she finished her spiel, Keith felt everyone else’s eyes on him, _particularly_ Lance and James’s, (and not just because they were sitting next to him, either).

  “Please?” James tried his puppy-dog eyes.

  “Ugh, stop with that ugly look,” Keith teased, folding his arms. “I gotta man the shop, you know that.”

  “No you don’t,” Pidge interjected. “Matt was saying you haven’t taken a day off for what, two years? I’m sure Shiro would be happy for you to take some time off.”

  Damn Pidge being related to Matt, who can’t keep his mouth _shut._ It seemed she couldn’t either.

  “Please, _Keef_ ,” Nadia appeared from besides Lance, craning her neck to look around him.

  “You’ll get paid!” Veronica calls from somewhere, Hunk adding he’ll bake him brownies, promptly followed by Pidge yelling about why Keith gets brownies and she never does, followed by Nadia begging Hunk for brownies too.

  “Just do it, man,” Lance muttered, folding his arms.

  “Maybe it’ll do you good to have some space from Curtis and Shiro,” James mumbled so no one but Keith could hear.

  Keith let out a long sigh. “Fine. I guess. If you guys need any equipment you can come by the shop, too. We’ll have everything you need.”

  “Keith is great with guitars too!” James added. “He’s my little guitar tech.”

  “Wait, _little_?!”

 

  -

 

  Keith stands in front of the door to Shiro’s apartment, biting his lip. His chest was pounding, and he realised he hadn’t felt this nervous returning home since coming home from the hospital a couple of years ago, knowing going back inside was going to feel all out of place and too quiet and _wrong._

  He knew he had to come back to the place at _some point,_ and left the band meeting not long after he agreed to do the merch, pretending he had work, just to come back here. They all were chatting and joking around, after the “serious” business was discussed, and Keith didn’t quite feel like he slotted in with them.

  So here he was, coming back to an apartment he seemed to not slot into anymore either.

  He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the conversation awaiting on the other side, pushing the door open.

  Or at least, he tried, only to find it was locked.

  He needn’t have worried about approaching Shiro yet, apparently.

  He took his keys out of his jacket pocket, unlocking the door and heading inside. Everything was spotlessly clean. Keith felt like he was somehow dirtying the place. He quickly took off his muddy shoes and put them by the door, the two pairs they usually sat next to were gone.

  Keith walked through the silent apartment. Ignoring his hunger, and not wanting to mess up the kitchen, he went straight to his room.

  It was the only place in the apartment that wasn’t clean. It was just how he’d left it when he’d argued with Shiro; ramshackled, with clothes littering the floor, his chair upturned. It was out of place in such a neat, orderly house, like a stain or a tear upon a perfectly blank canvas.

  Keith collapsed onto his bed, checking his phone. Shiro hadn’t said anything about him and Curtis going out. Of course he hadn’t, though. Keith had been ignoring him, so why should he?

 

-

 

  Keith woke from his restless, light sleep (if he could even call it that) to the sound of his bedroom door clicking open. He knew without even closing his eyes that it was Shiro. He didn’t feel up to talking, and his cheeks were still sticky with tears, which Shiro would be able to spot in a heartbeat, so he pretended to be asleep, knowing Shiro would leave him alone.

  There was a sigh, exhausted with hints of soft relief. Footsteps thudded closer, and Keith felt himself get shifted, so his head was comfortably on the pillow, and covers get gently pulled over him.

  There was another set of footsteps, slower than before, a hesitation, then the door clicked shut again. Keith pulled the covers closer around him, hearing the low rumble of Shiro and Curtis’s voices somewhere in the apartment.

 

-

 

  Eventually Keith had to come out of his room, and what better way to do it than dinner time. Curtis cooked, and though he was a good cook (thank goodness, because Keith and Shiro definitely _weren’t_ ), Keith could never stomach his food. It was never the cooking he longed for, and with Curtis’s cooking always came the awkwardness of being forced to sit with both him and Shiro at dinnertime.

  Keith sat with his head bowed low, pushing the food on his plate around with his fork. As usual, dinner was silent, awkward, just as he knew it was going to be. It was clear the dinner was only made for two people; their portions of pasta were small, bulked up by homemade garlic bread and some salad Curtis had whipped together as soon as he knew Keith was home, a rarity that they probably didn’t think they needed to prepare for.

  Keith tried his best to ignore his darkened thoughts, not wanting to spiral and made a stupid mistake.

  “So, Keith. How was the show last night?” Curtis asked, causing Keith to look up.

  He was holding a glass of wine, his engagement ring taunting Keith, reminding him that he _shouldn’t be here._

  “It was good. Ended up being merch guy for both bands,” Keith shrugged.

  “James convinced you, I take it?” Curtis laughed. James’s name sounded odd coming from Curtis’s mouth, like he _knew_ James, when in reality he’d probably only heard his voice, maybe saw a flicker of his face as he came to their door to pick Keith up to go out somewhere. It was like a stranger saying your name for the first time. It made Keith uncomfortable.

  “Did you stay ‘round James’s last night?” Shiro asked, though his gaze dropped to Keith’s neck. Keith shifted James’s scarf a little, clearing his throat.

  “No.” Keith was never one to lie.

  “Keith,” Shiro muttered, that disappointed look falling onto his features. It used to tear Keith apart, it still did, but he knew he _deserved it._

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Keith felt like he was sinking. Maybe because the food he’d eaten now felt like lead in the bottom of his stomach. He placed his fork down onto the table. Shiro didn’t bother trying to coax Keith to eat more, because he knew it wouldn’t work.

  “Okay,” Shiro’s voice was soft, as though he was dealing with a feral animal instead of his foster brother. “We need to talk about something else, anyway.”

  “What?” Keith felt his chest clench in panic - they were kicking him out.

  “As you know, we’re getting married, and I just wanted to talk to you, with Curtis, in person about it because, well, it came as a surprise to you.”

  Keith shrugged, looking away. “There’s nothing to say.”

  Keith could practically hear the joints in Curtis’s jaw grind as he clenched his teeth.

  “There’s a lot to say, Keith.” Shiro adopted _that voice._ The one he used when Keith had his cheek pressed up against the cold window of the car, having previously ended up in the head teachers office for punching someone for talking shit about James, and his foster mother was working so Shiro had come in, listening to Shiro’s countless questions trying to decipher why his little brother would do such a thing.

  It was the voice he used over a cup of coffee and a hot chocolate in the back of a coffee shop ready to close for the night, when Keith had ran away from home after knocking over a vase when trying to hoover the floor, then smashing a photo frame on purpose. The voice that was muffled on the other side of the bathroom door at the church, Keith shaking and sitting on the other side, still in his black suit, clutching at the bunch of red roses he’d picked himself so tightly blood dribbled down his palms, tears falling down his face as he claimed that there was ‘nothing to say’.

  There _was_ nothing to say. Nothing to say that would express how Keith _truly_ felt.

  Keith had always found actions easier than words. Adam had understood that. Shiro never did.

  Shiro took a deep breath, putting down his knife and fork. “Why aren’t you happy about me proposing to Curtis?”

  “I am happy.” Keith was never one to lie, unless he was doing it to spare the feelings of the ones he loved.

  And he hated it. He hated that he had to lie to Shiro. He hated that he was selfish and gt upset over something that Shiro had been dreaming of since they first met. Shiro had always dreamt of getting married, getting a house and a cat, living the rest of his life with another.

  And that was the problem. It was with _another._ Not Curtis. With _another_ who was _gone._

  “You aren’t,” like James, Shiro could also see right through Keith. When he wanted to, anyway. “You’re upset, Keith. We want to understand why,” he mumbled. “Why you’re avoiding us, why it feels like you’re trying to run away - why you sleep with random hookups every night! Don’t you realise how dangerous that is? How worried we are about you when you don’t come home?!”

  There it was. The word _we_ . Shiro and Curtis. It was always _Shiro and Curtis._

  There was no room for Keith, nor no mention of what once was. Had Shiro _forgotten_?

  Keith felt an ache in his chest, felt as though his palms were bleeding all over those red roses he was clutching too tightly all over again.

   _Typical Keith, always stuck in his past. Unable to just_ **_let go_ ** _._

Typical Keith, who tried to hide his emotions under a false mask of apathy.

  “Do I really have to have a reason? I just like sex.” Keith shrugged, trying to hide his shudder, because it wasn’t true. Sure, he may have liked it at first, the thrill, the attention, knowing that people _actually_ found him attractive, but then he realised he was just being used. Someone to mould into whoever they were pining for. And Keith was using them too. Using them as a form of comfort, as a place to stay for the night.

  He deserved it all. Deserved to be used. It was all he was good for anymore.

  “Then why don’t you find a partner?” Curtis suggested, and Keith could feel the lead in his gut spark to flame. “You haven’t had a stable relationship since...well, ever. Maybe it’ll do you good to-”

  “Don’t,” Keith snapped, glaring at Curtis. “Don’t act like you know what’s best for me. You don’t even fucking _know_ me.”

  “Because you never gave him the opportunity to know you, Keith!” Shiro cut through, eager to defend his boyfriend - no, _fiance_ , over his foster brother. “You’re always sleeping around strangers houses! Don’t you realise how much stress you cause me, doing that?! I can hardly sleep at night knowing that someone could easily take advantage and hurt you! I don’t want to lose you, Keith. Not like - not like Adam.”

  Keith stood up, wanting to flee before he did something he regret. “Oh, so you _do_ remember Adam?!”

  “ _What?_ ” Shiro stood as well, as though his chair had burst into flames and burnt him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s been _two years_ since he died, Shiro, and you’re getting married to someone else already?!” Keith felt his voice give a little, nails digging into his palms to keep him from bursting right there and then. “It’s like you don’t even _want_ to remember him!”

  “Keith, _don’t you dare_ ,” Shiro growled, his voice falling to a tone Keith had only ever heard once, but never at him.

  That tone had _terrified_ him, even then.

  “But it’s true! It’s like...he never even existed! It’s like you don’t...don’t care -!”

   _“SHUT UP!”_ A loud crash reverberated through the flat, and red spilled across the table, seeping into the white tablecloth, around the shards of glass from a shattered wine glass.

  Shiro kept his fist amidst the chaos. Keith felt his breath catch in his throat, taking steps back as the ice cold fingers of memories he had once buried resurfaced and clenched at his lungs.

  Keith left the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. His head span as he stumbled to his room, packing his rucksack with some clothes and grabbing his phone, racing through the apartment to the front door, unable to do up his laces from his trembling hands.

  “Keith! Wait, I’m sorry, I-” Shiro grabbed onto his arm. Keith flinched away.

  “ _Let go of me_ ,” Keith snarled, tugging out of Shiro’s grip, and slamming the door behind him.

  The harsh, stifling heat from the sun bore down onto Keith’s face, blinding him as he walked aimlessly down the streets. He dialled a number instinctively onto his phone, gripping it so tightly he was worried that he might snap it.

  “Keith?” James’s voice came through the speaker, quiet. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now, I’m visiting my father for the next couple of days, remember? I left just after our meeting - wait, is everything okay?”

  James was going round his father’s? He had too much on his plate to be worrying about Keith.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Keith formed the strongest voice he could, one that could even fool James. “I was actually going to go down to the bar in town and wanted to see if you could come, but you’re busy. It’s cool. Uh, are you okay? He isn’t being too...horrible, is he?”

  “No. He uh, doesn’t remember who I am. They say it’s the medication,” James’s voice cracked a little. “Kinda weird, y’know? At least he’s not telling me I’m the family disappointment, I guess?” He chuckled, emotionless. “I uh, I’m going out with my sister later, though, before she goes away. So it should be fun? Anyway. I’ve got to go. I’ll call tomorrow, okay?”

  Keith mumbled a goodbye and James hung up.

  He was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hooded figure caught Keith’s eye, shoving their hand into their pocket quickly, stepping cautiously forward, slowly pulling their hood down.
> 
> “Keith, is that you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: this chapter contains attempted rape. Please be careful <3
> 
> If you don't want to read that section, I've put two dashes when it starts and ends. It starts with "It was a few drinks and gentle touches later when Keith was tugged into a penthouse" and ends with "Keith took the chance to scramble to his feet and ran out of the apartment, forgetting his bag, jacket, everything for the sake of getting out of there." 
> 
> I ended up finishing editing the chapter quicker than I thought, so have it early! :D

   Keith had made a number of reckless decisions in his life - it was the only thing he  _was_ good at. Now was no exception, standing in a rough bar at the end of town, drowning himself in spirits, watching neon lights flash and smoke rise as bodies danced and laughed and sang. 

   He leant back against the bar, just observing, trying to remember how to breathe. It was unbearably hot, the air thick with sweat, alcohol, and the oddly sweet scent of the smoke pouring into the club, so much so he could hardly see. He knew he would never calm down in a place like this, where his senses were being completely overwhelmed, but he couldn't go back outside, because going outside meant he wouldn't be able to bring himself to come back in. He needed to  _stay_ because he had no where else to go. 

   His phone vibrated relentlessly in his pocket, taunting him with memories of what had happened between him and Shiro. They argued frequently, sometimes it was petty, sometimes it was serious, but it had  _never_ resulted in Shiro losing his temper in such a way. Shiro usually had the patience of a saint, or so everyone had said. Keith knew differently - he knew Shiro could be just as fiery as he was. The difference between them was that Shiro could  _control_ it, could tamper down those flames until he reached the gym, or he got a moment alone at the store so that he could take his frustrations out on one of the drum kits at the back. He'd never let himself explode like that before, especially not in front of Keith. 

    _Never_ in front of Keith.

   His phone continued to buzz. Whether it was Shiro or James, or even both, Keith didn't know. He was too afraid to look. He hoped they'd forget about him; he didn't deserve their time. 

   The bar dug painfully into his lower back, but he didn't dare move, simply clutched onto his glass, the heat from his hands and the room making the ice in it melt and dilute the whiskey still inside. He downed the rest regardless, grimacing. He wasn't really a whiskey person, not like one of his past foster fathers, but it got him drunk quickly, regardless. 

   He places the glass onto the bar with such force, he's surprised the delicate glass doesn't shatter around his fingertips - finds himself wishing deep down that it  _did_. 

   Someone places a hand on Keith's shoulder and he jerks it off. The man standing far too close next to him sluggishly clicks his fingers at the bartender, flashing Keith a wide smile. He must come here a lot, as the bartender simply nods and starts making some form of cocktail right away. 

   "I've not seen you around here before. Aren't you going to dance with everyone else?" The man tries to bring up conversation, leaning into Keith a little. Keith feels a twang of unease deep in his gut, but his phone reignites with vibrations, and he stops himself from stepping away. 

   "Dancing isn't really my thing," he mumbles. The man chuckles, running a hand through his bleached hair. 

   "What, so you're just gonna stand here and stare at everyone having a good time?"

   The barman approached, pushing a bright blue cocktail towards the man, and another towards Keith. 

   "It's on me." The man nodded to the drink, tapping his card onto the machine before Keith could protest, before turning to face him. He holds out a hand. Keith goes to shake it, but the man's grip tightens and he lifts Keith's hand to kiss it. "People around here call me Jay," he mutters.

   Keith grimaced in an attempt to smile, trying to pry his hand out of the sweaty one gripping his too tightly, without much success. "Keith."

   "It's a pleasure, Keith," 'Jay' purrs, hesitating before letting go of Keith's hand, his eyes feeling as though they are boring into Keith's soul. 

   Keith's phone continues to buzz, but Jay's calming voice, gentle touches and constant flow of cocktails from the bar soon make him forget about it, and eventually everything else that happened that day.

 

**\--**

 

.  It was a few drinks and gentle touches later when Keith was pushed into a penthouse, large and spotlessly clean, almost obsessively so. Keith was forced against the wall before he could even take in his surroundings, and the haze of alcohol covering over his conscience like a veil made him unaware of the tightness that Jay was truly using to grip onto him. 

   He bypassed Keith's lips to fall to his neck, biting down like a hungered animal. Keith yelped, hands reaching to push him away, but before he could say a word, he was being lifted off the ground and carried through a bedroom, dropping onto the bed with a harsh  _thud._

   It was then when he snapped out of his alcohol induced haze to realise something was  _wrong_. 

   His wrists were gripped tightly and were pinned above his head. Keith tried to pull away, but the grip only tightened into something more painful. Keith caught a flash of metal.

   "U-Uh, I'm not really comfortable with-" Keith stuttered, partly just for an excuse, only to have a hand pushed over his mouth. 

   Keith's protests were muffled, and Jay tried to press on. Keith struggled, and when he realised that Jay's grip was relentless, he kicked up. With a cry, Jay loosened his grip, and Keith pushed him away with all the strength he could muster. Before Kith could grab his bag, redo the buttons on his shirt, and get the  _fuck_ out of there, something thudded into his nose and the world span a little. Keith fell onto his knees, hand reaching for his nose. 

   A hand tightly gripped onto his hair. "You  _can't_ turn me down now - you were  _all over me_ an hour ago!"

   Keith gripped Jay's arm and pulled, causing the man to lose his balance, falling forwards. Keith took the chance to scramble to his feet an run out of the apartment, forgetting his bag, jacket,  _everything_ for the sake of  _getting out of there._

 

**\--**

 

   Running. Keith was  _good_ at running.

   He ran out of the apartment block, onto the streets and pouring rain, not stopping. Blood ran down his nose and his heart pounded, his throat clenched up. He choked on every shallow breath that left his mouth, his lungs fuelled with fire. 

   He ran until he tripped, falling onto his knees, hands stinging as gravel stuck into his palms. He first choked, sounding very much like a hiccup, before bursting into heavy, uncontrollable sobs. 

   Keith pulled his phone from his pocket to call the one person he needed right now, to be picked up, because Jay  _might_ still be following him, and Keith wasn't sure he could walk any further - he was  _exhausted._

   He struggled to unlock his phone, his hands trembling so much he had to grip onto his phone with both of them so he didn't drop it. 

   Shiro picked up on the second ring.

   "Keith?! Keith, I'm so, so..." Shiro paused. Keith coughed, trying his best to  _stop crying_ , but it wouldn't work. "Hey, calm down, what's wrong?" Shiro's gentle voice crackled through the speaker, nad Keith found himself somehow crying  _more,_ because he  _needed_ Shiro, so, so much. 

   He heard the distant voice of Curtis and some more shuffling. "Keith.  _Keith,_ breathe for me. Just...breathe. That's it. Now tell me where you are. I'm coming to get you, okay?"

   "I-I'm outside," Keith mumbled, still trying to focus on his breathing like Shiro had told him. 

   "Okay." Keith heard the sound of a car door shutting. "Can you look around for me, tell me what's nearby?"

   Keith does as Shiro says, a quiet reminder filtering through the speaker to remember to breathe. "The-The station. Shiro, please come quick, I-" Keith screwed his eyes shut, biting his lip to try and stop the shuddering in his chest filtering out into more sobs. 

   "I'm on my way, Keith, I promise I'll be there soon. What happened?" Shiro asked. Keith heard the quiet thrum of an engine. 

   "I...he wouldn't stop and...and he..."

   "Hey, buddy,  _breathe_ ," Shiro's voice trembled. "Are you...Are you hurt?"

   "I got away."

   "Okay. It's gonna be okay." He wasn't sure if Shiro was reassuring Keith, or himself at this point. "I'm coming to get you. You'll be safe. I won't be long, okay?" He mumbled. "I want you to find somewhere you can go. Somewhere inside where there are other people. You think you can do that for me?"

   Keith nodded, before realising Shiro can't see him. "Yeah, okay."

   "Good. I'm on my way. I've got to hang up now. You'll call me the second you need me, okay? If I don't pick up, call James for me."

   "I will."

   "I love you, Keith."

   "I love you too. I'm sorry," Keith managed to choke out just before the line cut dead. 

 

-

 

   Shiro had hung up two hours ago. Keith was sure if his legs worked properly and he wasn't immobilised by fear, he could have walked home in that time. 

   He couldn't find anywhere to wait inside, and didn't want to walk too far in case Shiro couldn't find him, so sat outside the abandoned station, leant up against the closed-up entrance. He held onto himself in an attempt to retain some warmth, his clothes soaked from the previous downpour, staring blankly ahead at the dimly lit carpark, flittering into darkness every so often from the breaking lights of the station.

   A figure dressed in all black smoked nearby, and though Keith was uneasy at his presence at first, had almost dialled Shiro's number in panic, he didn't pay Keith any notice, so Keith tried not to worry about him. 

   Where  _was_ Shiro? Keith had called him _multiple times_ when it had gotten to an hour after he'd hung up, but he didn't answer. Did he decide Keith wasn't worth coming to pick him up?

   Keith couldn't blame him.

   He heard the crunch of tires on gravel, and looked up with a newfound spark of hope to see a blue car park in one of the spaces. It wasn't Shiro's car, and Keith quickly found himself slumping back into the wall, hugging his knees closer to his chest, which had began to ache with an almost unbearable pain.

   A hooded figure got out of the car, had a conversation with the smoking figure, before the smoking figure left. 

   the hooded figure caught Keith's eye, shoving their hand into their pocket quickly, stepping cautiously forward. 

   "Keith, is that you?"

   Keith recognised that voice, but was too busy concentrating on counting to pay any notice. Back in his preteen days, when he was kicked out of the house into the cold for being  _bad_ , he'd sit and count the cars that went by, until the sun rose and he was allowed back inside to get ready for school. 

   Counting distracted him from the fact he was  _freezing_ , if only a little. 

   "Hello? Mullet? Anyone home?" The hooded man clicked his fingers in front of Keith's face. Keith startled and looked up. The light from the station illuminated his face.

 

    _Lance?_

 

   Lance's face was pale and sunken-looking (Keith was sure he looked no better), lips parted as he gasped. He knelt down, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What are you doing - shit, you're freezing  _and_ soaked!"

   He shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around Keith's shoulders. Keith hugged it close, savouring the warmth and the dull scent of cigarettes radiating off of it. 

   Lance faltered, looking from Keith, to his car, back to Keith again. "Uh, do you want me to call James?"

   Keith shook his head numbly. James ran around after him enough.

   "Family? Mum? Dad?" Keith shook his head again. Maybe if he was thinking straight, he'd laugh, but even now the reminder of what was an absence for as long as he could remember made his head reel even more. "Okay, is there  _anyone_ I can call for you?" At Keith's lack of response, Lance sighed. 

   "Okay," Lance muttered to himself. "Let's get you somewhere warm, so we can deal with, um, that," Lance gestured to Keith's bloodied nose. "Don't get blood on my jacket, by the way," he snapped, then flinched a little. "Do you think you can walk to my car over there?" He tried again, more softly this time.

   Keith nodded, so Lance helped him to stand. He was shaky on his feet, and though he reassured Lance that he was fine and could walk, Lance kept a hold of him right until they reached his car. 

   He sat Keith down in the passenger seat, plugged in his seatbelt when Keith's hands were shaking too much to do it himself. He started the engine, put the heaters up as far as they could go, and began to drive. Quiet music from the radio played in the background, filling the awkward space between them. 

   "Look, I get you probably don't wanna talk about it, but are you hurt anywhere else? Do you...Do you think you need to go to the hospital?"

   "No...I'm okay," Keith mumbled, too tired to try to stop his voice from trembling.

   "Okay. We'll go to my apartment. I'll...I'll lend you some warm clothes. You can have a shower, and if you want you can stay around mine tonight. I take it you...you don't have anywhere to go right now."

   Lance pulled up into a small, rundown looking apartment building. He helps Keith inside ad leads him up the stairs after swearing at the out of order elevator. He mumbles a few words of encouragement every now and then on their way up, though Keith isn't sure exactly what he says. 

   Lnace lets Keith inside. He leads him into the bathroom, shows him how to use the shower, and reminds him to call if he needs anything. 

   Keith lets the water scald his skin a little, surprised he has enough energy in him to have yet  _another_ breakdown. He hopes Lance can't hear him over the sound of the water running.

   As soon as Keith turns the shower off, there's a quiet knock on the door. 

   "I've left you some pyjamas on my bed; when you come out it's the door opposite. I'll just be in the kitchen. Call me if you need me - it's no problem."

   Keith managed to make a noise of recognition, exhaustion starting to ease it's way into his aching bones, now he was somewhere  _safe_ and  _warm._ The tremours from the cold had since ceased, but Keith still sniffled, his eyes were still sore, his head still pounded. 

   He passed quickly into Lance's room. It was as though Lance had began to tidy it at some point, then given up halfway through. Items were haphazardly strewn across the room, while other areas were spotlessly clean. 

   Some tartan PJ bottoms laid neatly folded on the blue sheets of his double bed. An old, worn and t-shirt complimented it. Keith put them on, having to fold over the top of the bottoms a few times because they were far too big for him. It was nice to have some clean, dry clothes on, though.

   Keith looked back to his phone, tempted to ring Shiro again. If just to let his hurt get the better of him and snap at him, let him know that he didn't need picking up anymore because apparently some stranger who he'd only met  _twice_ cared more about him than his supposed  _foster brother_ did. 

   He didn't, though. He was too exhausted to argue, and Lance knocked on the door (although it sounded more like someone gently thudding their foot against it) before he even had a chance to consider dialling the tone.

   "Keith? You decent?" He called. 

   "Yes?"

   Lance pushed open the door, holding a tray of two steaming mugs and a little first aid kit. Lance placed it on his bedside cabinet after pushing a few cluttered items - including a battered notebook and an upturned photo - out of the way. 

   "Hot chocolate." Lance handed Keith one of the mugs. A few marshmallows shaped like dinosaurs floated inside. "I uh...you probably need some sugar," he stammered, playing with the zip on the first aid kit. "You look pretty...like you're in a bit of shock. From whatever happened."

   Keith thanked him quietly, cradling the warm mug in his hands. The smell of chocolate soothed him. 

   He noticed the mug itself had a blue handle, with 'unt' written on the cup in the same blue. Keith frowned.

   "Pidge," Lance shrugged, as though that offered enough explanation. Keith was sure it did, if you knew her well enough. "Anyway." he plucked out of the kit a small cotton pad, dousing it with antiseptic lotion. "Hands, please! It might sting a little, but it'd hurt a lot more if it got infected."

   Keith held out his hands, wondering if that was truly necessary. All the cuts and bruises he earned as a child, he let heal on its own. 

   Lance took a hand, keeping it steady in his grip as he gently patted the cool pad against the burning graze on his palm. Keith flinched, and Lance muttered an apology, making his actions a little more gentle. His thumb rubbed circles into the back of Keith's hand to soothe him.

   "So, what happened?" he moved onto the other hand. 

   "Got punched," Keith shrugged, turning to the side to look away. "Nothing I can't handle."

   Lance looked up as he grabbed a roll of bandages, noticing Keith's neck and gasping a little. "Keith, are you sure you don't-"

   "No. No hospital," Keith firmly refused, the lines coming as second nature to him even though he didn't need to worry anymore. He hadn't for a long time. "It was just a one-night stand gone wrong. Like I said, it's nothing to worry about."

   Despite what Keith had just said, Lance stopped bandaging up Keith's hands, looking even more worried than before. "But...did you get..." Lance looked like he didn't want to ask, but he had to check Keith was okay. Keith shook his head and watched Lance's shoulders slump with relief. 

   "I escaped," Keith mumbled. Despite the relief, Lance's frown didn't leave his face. 

   "Does anywhere else hurt?" Lance finished up, leaning back. Keith looked to his hands. 

   "I've got a headache but...are these bandages really necessary?"

   "I am not gonna be responsible for letting your reckless ass get an infection," he scolded firmly. "And a headache? I've got painkillers. Read the packet first, take them if they're alright - what am I saying, you probably know that," Lance laughed forcibly, scratching the back of his neck. "Hopefully they'll help you sleep, too. You must be exhausted."

   Lance pulled out a box from the small pack, handing it to Keith. Lance  _squeaked_ when Keith plucked one from the tray and took it dry without even looking to see what they were. 

   Lance sighed and shook his head, smiling a little as he stood. "Get some rest, Keith." He gestured to his bed. 

   "I'll take the couch - I can't take your bed!"

   "Keith, just sleep here. I insist. It's no problem! I've got a TV series I gotta finish before I even think about sleeping, anyway," he reassured, quickly grabbing a toy shark with a bowtie from his bed. "He comes with me, though. Sorry, dude."

 

-

 

   Morning comes, and Lance wakes from his place on the sofa to the sound of some rowdy couple in the apartment next door screaming down each other's throats. Lance sighs, stretching and grunting at the pains in his back. His cat, Blue, who had taken to sleeping on his chest all night (and him being too scared to move), stretched with a yawn and hopped off onto the floor.

   He hears something buzzing and frowns -  _since when did he put his phone on silent?_ He sighed, not in the mood for putting a mask on to talk to his Mama this morning, and looked to the coffee table to decline it and lie later and say he was at work. 

   After gazing at the coffee table, he quickly realises it wasn't his phone, it was Keith's.

   After throwing Keith's clothes into the wash basket (they'd reeked of alcohol and that musky smell rain drenched clothes took on) he tugged Keith's phone out of his jean pocket and placed it onto the coffee table to give to him when he woke in the morning. It wasn't a contact, merely a number flashing across the screen, so Lance let it ring. It went through to voicemail. 

    _"Keith, you need to answer the phone,"_ a voice, trembling with worry, filtered through the speaker.  _"It's an emergency!"_

   Lance blinked, before letting out a huff. He  _really_ didn't want to wake Keith, not after the stressful time he'd clearly had last night (stressful was definitely an understatement, Lance decided), but it seemed the poor mullet's stress hadn't ended yet.

   He grabbed the phone and quickly passed through his flat. Quite literally, his flat had three rooms, all within a few steps of each other. Pidge's  _kitchen_ was bigger than his entire flat. Don't even get him started on Allura. He was sure she had closets bigger.

   He knocked softly on the door, mindful of privacy (something Lance  _never_ had when he lived back at home), but after no reply, he pushed open the door. Inside, Keith was curled up into the wall, making himself as small as possible as he hugged onto Lance's covers. Lance gently shook Keith awake.

   Keith nuzzled into the pillow, groaning something Lance couldn't even remotely begin to understand.

   Keith's phone began to ring again, from that same number. "Keith, someone's calling you," Lance handed Keith the phone. Keith didn't even look at the number.

   "'M alive, Shiro, no tha-" Kieth slurred, before pausing. He jolted to sit up, almost colliding with Lance in the process.

    _"What?_ " Keith whispered one final word, before completely falling apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for another cliffhanger! But Lance is making a proper appearance now so hopefully you'll forgive me? 
> 
> I have a playlist that has songs that inspired most of the events/characters in this - I always listen to it when I'm writing this, haha. If anyone's interested or just wants something new to listen to, I'll pop the link below:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6aoeVsxBwjYguapLtHnK8b


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tears hung in Keith’s eyes like the first dewy raindrops on the windowpane before a storm. One fell and trickled down his cheek, then another, and another. There was a shudder, a whispered ‘no’, before he dropped his phone with a clatter, crumpled into himself, and sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there are more mistakes than usual, I'm running on a very little amount of sleep.
> 
> Enjoy!!
> 
> Tw: panic attacks

Tears hung in Keith’s eyes like the first dewy raindrops on the windowpane before a storm. One fell and trickled down his cheek, then another, and another. There was a shudder, a whispered ‘no’, before he dropped his phone with a clatter, crumpled into himself, and sobbed. 

Lance stood for a second, unsure of what to do, his hand hovering over Keith’s shuddering shoulder. “Keith? Keith, what’s wrong?” He asked, his voice gentle. Keith mumbles something into his hands. Lance catches the word ‘hospital’.

“Hospital?” Lance hesitates.

“Shiro…oh god, _Shiro -_ I need to go,” Keith mumbled between hiccups.

“Go where? The hospital?” Lance’s stomach sinks. He places his hand - _finally -_ onto Keith’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze and helping Keith get to his feet. “I’ll drive you there, okay?”

“Y-You don’t have to, I’ll…” Keith trailed off, most likely unsure of how he was even going to get there.

“I insist. Now come on, I’ll grab you some clean clothes.”

 

-

 

The ride to the hospital had been silent; for the first time in _years_ Lance hadn’t had music on in his car. He was just concentrating on getting there as quickly as possible _without_ crashing.

Lance had barely even stopped the car before Keith was climbing out. Lance had to run to keep up with him, following through the maze of dizzyingly bright halls, growing increasingly anxious when he realises that they were going towards where all the signs said the ICU unit was. He’d been there once before - but only because he was giving his brother a lift home from work and the guy was taking _so long_ Lance decided to come collect him himself.

“Fuck,” Lance muttered to himself. It had started to weigh down on him how serious it truly was.

A nurse was leaving through the ward’s doors just as they wanted to enter. Keith caught the door and Lance followed inside, catching a tall, dark haired and skinned man pacing up and down the row of plastic blue chairs. His eyes were bleary and his hair was a mess; little tufts were sticking up from where he had been tugging at them.

The man stopped at the sight of Keith, freezing, eyes flared with anger. Lance hung back, noticing how rigid the man had become. Keith didn’t notice, and approached him.

“Curtis.” Keith lowered his head, his voice hoarse. “How is he?” 

“He lost his arm,” Curtis’s voice wavered, his tone clipped. Sticky tear tracks glinted in the light from the hospital “It was so damaged it would have killed him if they didn’t remove it. Thanks to _you._ ”

“Hey-“ Lance began, seeing Keith freeze up at his words.

“I see you’ve brought your hookup of the day with you,” Curtis muttered, looking Lance up and down with a glare. Lance shrunk back a little, opening his mouth to argue, but Curtis continued to speak before he had the chance. “It’s because of you that he’s here in the first place - he got in a car accident driving to come and get _you._ ”

Keith flinched as though struck. “I know…I’m sorry.”

“He could have _died_ , Keith,” Curtis’s voice crackled and tears dripped down his cheeks. “I hope you’re happy.”

Before Lance could say a word, spill out the anger that was bubbling inside of him, fuelled by every acidic word that left Curtis’s mouth, the man shoves past Keith, muttering something about a cigarrette, before disappearing out the ward.

Lance’s vision was too clouded with his anger to spot Keith wobble on his feet, only being snapped back into reality when the short figure in the corner of his eye slipped down and out of his vision.

“Keith!” Lance falls to his knees besides Keith, who starts trembling, breath coming out in short spurts. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe, just…just focus on my voice, okay? You’re okay.” Lance rubs Keith’s arm in an attempt to give him something to focus on. Keith barely moved an inch, just stayed kneeling on the ground, staring down the hall, his body trembling and chest barely rising with breath. The occasional tear dripped down his cheek, but it was very much like trying to talk to a hollow shell.

A delicate shell that had somehow managed to withstand the vicious pulses of the tide up to this point.

Lance stayed that way, in the middle of the hall, mumbling quietly to Keith a thousand comforting words that probably went unheard, until finally the trembling in his body stilled, and Lance managed to get him to breathe. 

Slowly, Lance placed a hand under Keith’s chin - sticky with tears - and lifted his face up. He plucked a tissue from his pocket and dabbed away the tears, before handing it to Keith so he could blow his nose.

“S-Sorry,” Keith mumbled, his voice wrecked. “Just…Being here again brought back bad memories.”

“It’s fine,” Lance replied. “You have nothing to be sorry for - it’s a natural reaction to a situation like this.”

Keith stayed seated for a minute, still trying to get his breath back, Lance sticking by him. A nurse passed by, and Lance wondered if she’d seen them, because before he knew it, she was kneeling down with them and a glass of water was being pushed into Keith’s trembling hands.

“Would you like a quiet room?” She asked softly and slowly - maybe a little too patronisingly. Keith shook his head, sipping at the water after mumbling a thank you. “That’s okay. If you do need anything, we’re happy to help.”

“Is Shiro-How is Takashi?”

“I can’t disclose information about patients to people who aren’t family,” She mumbled, her tone apologetic.

“I’m his brother.”

“Brother?” She frowned. “There’s no mention of any family on his files, just his fiancé and his deceased mother and ex-boyfriend. I’ll direct you to Marco, he can tell you how Mr. Shirogane is progressing.”

Lance’s jaw clenches, though he says nothing.

Lance and Keith get to her feet and follow her down the hall. The smell of disinfectant clings to the air, mingling with the fear radiating off of Keith, even rubbing off on Lance a little.

“He’s in good hands, though, sir. Dr. Holt is one of the best doctors here,” the nurse reassured. Keith and Lance both visibly relaxed - Shiro would be in good hands if he was being looked after by Pidge and Matt’s father. “Marco is just there,” she directed, before dispersing off into another direction.

“Lance!” Came a call. Lance took a deep breath. 

A boy, a carbon copy of Lance (just with more prominent freckles and brown eyes) waved. Lance wearily waved back, forcing a smile. Keith looked between the two siblings with a frown.

“He’s my brother,” Lance muttered to Keith under his breath.

“I haven’t seen you for _months_ \- what are you doing here?” Marco asked, smiling.

“I need to ask about a patient,” Lance explains. A slight disappointment flashed over Marco’s face, but he quickly wipes it away. “My friend Keith’s brother, Shiro, is here. He had a car crash.”

“Takashi Shirogane?” At Keith’s small nod, Marco began to type, the keys clacking loudly. The sound of wheels squeaking past caused both Lance and Keith’s attention to dart into the hall, to a bed being pushed past, but it was empty. “He, um, won’t be able to take on visitors tonight - the operation will take at least six hours depending on-“ Marco cut himself off. “He won’t be able to take visitors after, either. Visitor hours are finishing now, anyway. It’s kinda strict in this department.” He looked to Keith sympathetically. “I’d suggest you go home - chair’s here are awfully uncomfortable and there’s nothing you can do here anyway. Get some rest and I’ll text Lance with updates as soon as I get them.”

Keith looked a little reluctant to leave.

“I promise I’ll text Lance anything I hear, and I’ll text him as soon as you can visit - it shouldn’t be too long after surgery.” Marco smiles. 

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” Keith mumbled, unable to find the energy to smile at Marco.

“Wait, Lance, do you even have my number? I keep texting you but you never reply.” Marco frowned.

Lance laughed nervously, scratching his arm. “Yeah, I have it. That’s uh, strange. It must be playing up…again. Anyway, Keith, do you want me to drive you home?”

“I actually wanted to-“

“You’re _not_ staying here,” Lance muttered. “There’s no point, Keith. Besides, it’s clear you hate hospitals and it’s stressing you out - I’ll bring you straight up here as soon as we hear anything, okay? Now, do you want me to drive you home?” His question was more a demand.

Keith diverts his eyes.

Lance guessed from Keith’s face, and sighed. “That guy lives with you and Shiro, huh?” He lowered his voice. Keith nodded. “Well, I’ll drop you there to grab your stuff. You’re crashing on my couch for a few days.”

“Thank you, but I can’t just-“

“I insist! Take it as an apology for hitting you with a door and shoving you into your boyfriend when we first met.” Lance nudged Keith’s arm with a smile. “Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna be using it when I’m asleep.”

Keith placed a hand to his head as his headache increased. “Wait… _Boyfriend_?”

Lance blinked. “So, James _isn’t_ your boyfriend?”

“No?” Keith rubbed his temples. “We’re not going out. James is straight and I’m not his type anyway.” Keith spoke in monotone, as though he’d repeated those lines many times to other prying minds.

“Man, I feel like a jerk. I was so snappy to you because I saw how flirty you were with the barman and I thought you were both dating and I just…shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Keith sighed, exhaustion dripping from his tone. 

“I owe you an apology and pizza,” Lance forced a smile, before turning to Marco. “Keep us updated.”

“I will!” Marco mock saluted. “Lance, you should come to one of our meet-ups sometime! We all miss you!”

Lance laughed stiffly. “Sure.”

“Yeah, but you’ve gotta _promise_ this time or else I’ll-I’ll tell mama about your secret magazine collection you used to keep under your bed!”

“Since when did you-“ Lance stuttered, turning a bright red. Marco laughed as Lance placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder and steered him through the maze of halls, to the front of the hospital.

Keith _really_ didn’t want to leave the hospital, but it was clear he had no choice in the matter. The place was really getting to him anyway, the haunting beep of heart monitors, the smell of disinfectant cloying his senses, the walls so bright and white it made his head pound, the scar on his cheek tingle. 

Lance tugs Keith to the side, away from the exit, and towards the coffee shop situated inside. Keith let his boots scrape against the floor to stop them from entering - why were they going in here? He hadn’t any money on him, he’d left his wallet at Lance’s…somewhere.

Despite panic ebbing its way in the back of his mind, everything felt dull, heavy. He could only bring himself to feel a ghost of the feeling he should, as though it was simply stimulated because he knew he _should_ feel that way.

“Come on, you need some sugar,” Lance’s voice and a gentle squeeze to his shoulder grounded hm. “You’ve been through a lot in a really short space of time, okay?”

“I uh, I don’t have any-“ Keith’s words stuck in his throat.

“It’s on me, it’s the least I can do for acting like a complete dick to you,” Lance smiled, scratching his arm a little. “Come on, inside.”

Keith waits in line, Lance’s hand not leaving his shoulder. The longer they wait in the queue, the more fidgety Lance becomes. 

“O-Oh yeah, what do you want?” Lance asked. “No caffeine is allowed, just sugar.”

Keith shrugs, squinting at the menu. The prices, written neatly on the chalkboard hanging over the counter, were too small to see from where he was standing. He eyes the bottles of water lined up next to them, just before the counter, wondering how a shop got away with charging so much for _water_ , of all things.

“How about a hot chocolate? It used to always calm me down when I was stressed or upset as a kid,” Lance suggested, noticing Keith struggle. Keith nodded.

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, wringing the sleeves of Lance’s hoodie he was wearing.

“It’s no problem,” Lance waved his hand with a smile, and they shuffled a bit further towards the tills, the smell of coffee getting stronger, at least pushing the smell of disinfectant out of Keith’s mind for a moment.

So that’s what Lance ordered, as well as a ‘ _large strawberries and cream frappuccino - extra whip cream and marshmallows’_ for himself. As they head back to Lance’s car with their drinks, Keith plucks the marshmallows from his own drink and put’s them into Lance’s. Lance beams.

They get back to Lance’s car, the heat hitting Keith and making it a little hard to breathe, Lance immediately turning on the air-con as soon as he started the engine. 

Lance puts on his music quietly between them both, and Keith is thankful, because it fills the silence so Keith doesn’t feel awkward or pressured to talk. He simply sips his drink. Unfortunately, unlike Lance, it does little to soothe him. The sweetness simply causes nausea swirl in the pit of his stomach.

Keith sinks back into the worn leather seat, feeling the paper thin cup burn his palms as he clutched onto it, guilt churning in the bottom of his gut for leaving Shiro at the hospital. 

There was nothing he could do - they’d end up being kicked out anyway, but still Keith felt as though he should have at least _tried_ to stay behind.

_If he wasn’t so damn pathetic, always running away from his problems and keeling over at the first show of affection towards him, maybe Shiro wouldn’t be in hospital right now. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost-_

“YOU MAKE ME, FEEL LIKE I’M LIVING A TEENAGE DREAM!” Lance screams at the top of his lungs in a horrifyingly out-of pitch tune, startling Keith out of his thoughts, turning to see Lance dancing goofily in his seat while they were stopped at a traffic light, singing the lyrics and occasionally glancing at Keith.

Keith allows himself to smile a little. Lance smiles widely back. “-MY HEART - CRAP!” Lance starts his engine when someone toots their horn at him - the lights had gone green, and neither had noticed. Lance rounds the corner, and after a moment of silence, they both burst into soft laughter.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t realise the singer of the ever-edgy Paladins would be such a big Katy Perry fan,” Keith mumbled, a wide smile still playing at his lips as Lance continued to hum the lyrics to himself, seeming to have simmered down a little now.

“I get that a lot, but in my eyes, music is music - or is it ears?” Lance shrugs with a smile, before startling. “Crap, where _is_ your house?”

Keith blinked. “Wait, where have you been taking us?”

“I don’t know but - hey, were you actually _expecting_ me to know where your house is when we’ve only _just_ properly started talking?!”

“I thought if you didn’t ask maybe someone had told you before?”

“No!” Lance huffed. “Where am I going?”

“Turn left. You know where that music store is?”

“Garrison Guitars?” Lance asks, indicating and turning the corner, huffing as they reached yet another set of red traffic lights.

“No, the other one.”

“ _Oh,_ I’ve never been there before. Pidge goes there a lot, though. I know where it is - why are you taking us there?”

“Duh, Matt works there. It’s just down the street from where I live. Shiro and…He owns the place. I work there too.”

“Really? Pidge never mentioned it. Then again, I tend not to listen to anything that comes out of her mouth - she convinced me penguins didn’t exist, once, I haven’t trusted her with _anything_ ever since.” Keith chuckled and Lance smiled a little. “Maybe I’ll have to come down sometime. My guitar _does_ need some new strings soon. Do you have any cool pedals? I was gonna get a new one to add to my collection.”

“Depends on what you want,” Keith shrugged, muttering a quick ‘right’ when Lance approaches the next junction. “I could see if we could order it in if we don’t have it.”

“I’m not really sure what one, yet. I need some more reverb and delay for our songs - Pidge reckons it’ll make the guitar solo in _Strange Love_  sound cool…maybe an echo shifter,” Lance mumbles. 

“We have those. If you bring your guitar down you can give it a try and see if you like it?” Keith decided. “James likes his one a lot.”

“He does? Does he use it?”

“When doesn’t he use it?” Keith chuckles to himself.

“Well, his guitar sounds good - I think I’m gonna have to save up for one. Maybe I’ll do some more acoustic streams for some fans.” Lance pondered aloud. “Anyway, there’s the shop, now where do I go?”

Keith guides him to their apartment, biting his lip when he sees Curtis’s car parked in its usual place.

“Where about can I park? I don’t know about your place, but well, I’d get slaughtered if I parked in one of my neighbours spaces.”

“Next to that black car there, with the red bike.” Keith points to where his bike is parked in front of Curtis’s car, swallowing down his nerves when Lance pulls into _Shiro’s_ parking space. From the severity of the accident, Shiro’s car was probably written off.

Lance kills the engine. “Do you want me to wait here?” Lance offered. “Or do you want me to come in? I don’t mind. I’m happy to help you grab your stuff, though, especially if…whoever that was earlier is there.”

Keith bit his lip, looking to Curtis’s car next to them, considering. “It’s okay, I won’t be long.”

Lance lets out a breath. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be here then you get back.” He switches the stereo back on, the tinny happy go lucky tunes of another Katy Perry song clashing with the heavy atmosphere.

The apartment is silent when Keith lets himself inside, and he hopes that maybe Curtis had gone out without his car, so he wouldn’t have to go confront him again. That is, until he hears footsteps, and Curtis pass into the hall. He gives Keith a brief glare before treading into the kitchen, not speaking a word. 

Keith wasn’t sure what was worse, being screamed at, or being completely ignored. At least when someone yelled at him, he knew where he stood.

Keith quickly scurried into his room, grabbing his bag and stuffing clothes and anything else he’ll need for a couple of days inside. He hesitates when grabbing his glasses case from his bedside table, looking at the photo frame in front of him. It was Shiro’s graduation, him giving Keith a piggy-back ride, Keith wearing Shiro’s cap, them both beaming into the camera. Besides them was Adam, shaking his head disdainfully at the two.

Shiro had hated the photo at the time - it was grainy and slightly blurred (Shiro’s mother was the worst at technology), but Keith had always treasured it, even more so now. 

Keith swallowed down the lump in his throat, wondering whether he was going to see Shiro that happy ever again, and stuffed it into his bag.

Keith gets to his feet, taking one last glance around the room, before heading out the door. He hesitates by the kitchen, seeing Curtis there, mumbling on the phone, insurance documents littering the table, tugging at his hair. He gives Keith a simple glance, eyes focusing on the backpack, before flitting back to the papers without so much as a word.

Keith feels fire well up within his chest, conflicting with the cold guilt in his stomach as, without a word, he turns on his heel and pushes his way out the door. 

When Keith comes back, Lance is shifting in his seat, his music playing quietly. He wrings the sleeves of his jacket, eyes darting to Keith and jolting as soon as Keith pulls the door open. 

“I’m done,” Keith mumbles, taking a seat. “I can, um, I can find somewhere else to crash if you need me to, no hard feelings uh, I just, I don’t want to burden you and-“

“It’s fine!” Lance cut through, starting the engine. “It’s fine, Keith, don’t worry. L-Lancey-Lance has you covered!”

Keith frowned. “Right. Thanks.” He nods, leaning back in his seat as Lance pulls out of the car park, and back on the road. 

Lance doesn’t question the fact that Keith keeps sniffling, nor the fact that he keeps using Lance’s hoodie sleeve to scrub at his cheeks. Keith isn’t entirely sure he even notices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick psa (thank youuu to the anon commenter who reminded me that I forgot to put this on when first putting this chapter up - I'm a disaster smh): 
> 
> Curtis is not gonna be a villain in this fic. He's just stressed because his fiance has just been hit by a car (and almost died), and Keith seems to hate him. We'll see more from his pov soon! Don't worry your little socks, I'm not gonna use this fic to paint the poor guy (or the ship) in a negative way bc I actually think he's great (still kinda mad we didn't get hardly anything about his character in canon though) <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come on, Keith, it's time to let go!"
> 
> Keith begins to feel tears drip down his cheeks. The wind howls and soars, the numbing fear becomes all too real and he struggles to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack

   Being the middle of the day, and on a Tuesday, the roads were almost vacant. Lance babbles on about some random subjects, mainly talking about his band and rambling on about a new song he's working on. Occasionally he touched on how he's studying his last year at college still, on top of a part time job at a bookstore. Keith jokes about being a disappointment, having dropped out of college two years ago. Lance changed the subject swiftly, and then swiftly again, not keeping in the same place for too long. 

   They reach Lance's apartment quicker than Keith had expected. Lance haphazardly parks in a space that definitely wasn't the one that they parked in last night, before he leads Keith up the stairs quickly. Keith has to almost run to keep up with him, the metal staircase creaking and shuddering under their weight, mingling with the sound of a couple screaming at each other down one of the halls.

   Keith isn't sure what to do with himself when they enter the flat, so silent and...empty, compared to his own. Lance's cat (who Keith had barely seen) gives them a look of acknowledgement and saunters into Lance's room. Lance attempts to give him a reassuring smile, before traipsing into the lounge. Keith follows. 

   Lance slumps into the centre of the couch, making the executive decision to put the TV on. A repeat of  _Friends_ comes onto the TV, and Keith remembers fondly of when he and James would sit in an empty classroom during their study period and watch episodes of the show while they were supposedly 'studying' for their exams. He remembers the light breeze drifting in through the open window with the muffled shouts of kids in PE coming from the field, the taste of cherry cola that they'd snuck out of school to go and buy, and for Keith (and occasionally James, depending on his mood), the distant taste of nicotine from where he'd managed to pass off as old enough to buy a pack of cigarettes (or get one of the older students to buy him a pack).

    _James,_ thought Keith. he needed to call him. Though Lance had given him more comfort than Keith deserved, and he  _really_ appreciated it, Keith wanted nothing more than to hear the voice of his best friend. James would know exactly what to say to make Keith feel better. 

   "I think I might call James now," Keith mumbled, toying with his sleeve that was still damp from the tears earlier. He hovered in the doorway of Lance's lounge, that doubled up as a kitchen, it seemed, if the oven and fridge, and the two cabinets at the left hand side were anything to go by.

   "Sure. Say hi from me," Lance shrugged.

   "Uh, okay," Keith nodded, before heading into the hall, dialling James's number immediately.

   "Hello?" James answers, the sound of a rumbling car engine filtering through the crappy speaker on Keith's phone. He must be driving back home. 

    "James," Keith's voice cracks as everything that had happened today catches up on him  _again_. Keith was sure that he'd cried more in the past 24 hours than he had his whole life.

   "Keith, hey, what's up?"

   "It-Shiro got into a...Last night he...He crashed his car on his way to pick me up."

   There was a space of silence. "Shit. Is he okay?" He asked hoarsely.

   "He's in surgery. He lost his  _arm_."

   James took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. "Did Curtis take you to the hospital? Do you need a lift? Are you on your own right now, Keith?" He quickly fell to rambling, throwing question after question at Keith.

   "No. I, uh, came across Lance. Curtis and I argued and I'm staying at Lance's apartment for a few days. he's with me now." Keith tried his best to answer all of James's questions. 

   "That's good. Lance is a good guy, he'll look after you, Keith. I'm almost home but I'll take a detour. Are you at Lance's now?"

   "Yeah, but you don't-"

   "Nope, I'm coming round. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you when it was all happening, but I'm gonna be there for you now."

   There was no arguing with James, Keith knew that, so he merely mumbled a "thank you."

   "Oh, and Keith? It's not your fault. Please remember that. I'll see you soon."

   With that, the line went dead. It still unnerved Keith how James seemed to be able to read his thoughts with such little context.

   Lance doesn't talk much when he comes back in, for which Keith is grateful for. He just needs time to process things, and though he's itching to ask Lance if his brother has any news, he knows that Lance would have told him the moment he knew anything, so he tried his best to keep his mouth shut. 

   He stared at the flashing screen of the TV, the fake laughter rattling through his head, though he couldn't take any of it in. The colours were too bright and voices too loud, and he found himself missing his nights with Shiro, with takeout because the two of them were banned from using the kitchen after almost setting fire to it trying to microwave soup (to save washing up, they'd decided to microwave it in the tin can), watching space documentaries. Other than music, Shiro's other big interest was space - and Keith was just there for the ride, loving the cinematography of the galaxies and planets, most of the information sliding over his head. 

   He missed falling asleep on the couch, only to be woken by the gentle voice of Adam singing in the kitchen in the morning to the radio, a blanket secured over him and the TV since turned off, all the boxes that had once surrounded them cleared. Shiro would still be asleep, snoring quietly, and Keith would just take a moment to himself - as Adam had always taught him - to breathe and concentrate on the sounds gently thrumming in his ears, rather than the intrusive thoughts threatening to gnaw back into his conscious as the haze of sleep started to wear off. 

   He tried that now, focusing on the laughter, the soft sound of Lance breathing besides him, a car horn sounding somewhere distant outside. He focused on the patterings of rain against the Lance's windows, the soft whistle of the wind-

   A knock, cutting through all those sounds. Lance startles almost as much as Keith. Crap. Keith had forgotten to tell Lance that James was coming. 

   Lance gets up without a word, traipsing quietly through the flat. He probably assumed Keith was asleep - at some point he'd closed his eyes to focus, and unconsciously started his breathing technique Adam had taught him all that time ago. He kept his eyes closed, listening to the low hum of James and Lance's voices float through the empty flat. 

   Footsteps sounded and Keith finally opened his eyes, breaking out of his headspace, and looked up to see James. Darkness clouded his eyes with a restrained lethargy and sadness that Keith knew all too well. 

   Without saying a word, James pulls Keith into a tight hug. Keith hugs him tightly back, and it isn't until he buries his head into James's shoulder that he realises how much he truly craved comfort.

   "It'll be okay." James mumbled. "I promise Keith, it's not like last time, okay?" He pulled away and gave him a small smile. Keith somewhat returned it.

 

-

 

   James had returned home after an hour, as it had been a long and emotional day for him, as well as Keith and Lance. Keith told James to call him tomorrow, before he left, wanting to check James was okay after his visit. 

   He and Lance spend the evening finding things to do while waiting for the inevitable text from Marco. Keith can't seem to focus on anything, fidgeting so much that it makes even  _Lance_ anxious. He forever fiddles with his phone, glances to the TV, then fidgets some more, and repeats the process. Lance lets out a long sigh, grabbing his phone. 

   "I'll text Marco."

   Keith's jerking knee freezes,  _finally_ , and he looks to Lance. 

   "I know it's probably what you wanna know, right?" Lance smiled. "Shiro is in safe hands. Sam's a miracle worker, believe me. He's the best surgeon you can get, he won't give up, I promise."

   "I know, it's just-"

   "I get it, complications are sometimes out of our control, but Shiro is a fighter, I'm sure. He'll get through it." And though Lance barely knew Keith, didn't know Shiro, the softness of his words, the sincere, unwithering gaze in those blue eyes and his gentle yet grounding hand on Keith's shoulder, made him believe every word. 

   "I hope so," Keith mumbled. "Thank you, Lance. For everything. I...I don't know what I'd have done if you weren't there."

   "Hey, it's no problem; I know you'd probably do the same for me, or at least, I  _think_ so." Lance joked with a chuckle. "Wanna go find Blue? I haven't introduced you guys yet, but she always helps me when I'm nervous, so-" Lance took Keith's arm gently and eased him up, leading him through the flat, into Lance's room. On the dark blue bedsheets lay a little bundle of grey fur, her small head popping up from amongst the fabric, face stretching into a yawn as she stretched a paw out. 

   "Aw, hey Blue!" Lance cooed, petting her head. "She's a little wary of strangers, but she won't hurt you."

   Keith sat besides Lance, running his hand through her soft fur, smiling a little. Blue purrs and nudges her nose against Keith's hand. 

   "Wow, it took  _months_ for her to warm up to Hunk.  _Hunk!_ You sir, must be very special."

   Keith smiled a little, noticing the downturned photo frame on Lance's bed was now sitting up properly. It was of an elder couple, who Keith assumed to be Lance's parents (Lance looked the picture image of his father), along with several children of various ages gathered around them. Lance was standing off to the side, grinning as widely as he could while wearing braces. 

   "Is that your family?" Keith asked, nodding to the photo.

   "Yeah, we took it at Christmas a good few years ago," Lance mumbled, shoulders tensing a little as he focused his attention on Blue. 

   "You all look close."

   "We...are."

   "Why do you live on your own? If you've got a family?" Keith asked before he could stop himself.

   "I love my family, but there's too many of us. I need my own space, y'know?" Lance tried to justify. Somehow, Keith knew he was lying. If there was one thing Keith could feel from Lance, from how clingy he seemed to be to his friends when they texted, or even from how he'd taken Keith in without hesitation, was that he was lonely. Painfully lonely. 

   Which begged the question as to why he  _really_ lived alone. Keith was certain Hunk and Pidge would be more than happy to flat share with him - if they didn't already live with their families themselves. 

   "I get that," is all Keith settles to say, because he does get that. If he had a family that large, he wouldn't be sure how to cope with it all. 

   A while later, of sitting with Blue and trying to talk about any subject that avoided talking about any sensitive subject for either of them, Lance had gotten a reply from Marco. He'd said that Shiro did well during surgery and had just come out. He wasn't allowed visitors - things could very easily take a turn, and they needed the time to continue assessments. Same had gone home, but a different doctor, Slav, who works very closely with Sam and is just as skilled is on standby should Shiro need any more work. They are almost certain he'll make it through the night, which when Lance had told him, made Keith let out a big breath of relief. 

   Marco says they can most definitely visit tomorrow morning, during visitor hours, or earlier if he wakes up before then.

   "Right," Lance lifted his head back up from the phone with determination set in his eyes. "We are not going to sit around and mope and wait for tomorrow's visiting hours to come. You've had a long day, so I'm going to order us takeout while you choose a TV series for us to binge until we fall asleep drowning in pizza boxes, okay? I still owe you takeout, remember?"

   Keith allowed himself to smile. "I'd like that."

 

-

 

   The feeling of wind rippling in Keith's hair is numbed out by the feeling of his feet hanging, suspended in the air. His hands ache from clutching on too tightly, and before he even becomes aware of his surroundings, he can feel the fear clawing at his chest. 

   His eyes snap open and he finds himself hanging off a cliff face, the only thing stopping him from plunging into the jagged rocks thousands of feet below are his own two hands. 

    _How did he get here?_

   "Lance?" Keith's voice can barely be heard over the howling of the wind. "Shiro?  _Anyone?!_ "

   He feels a pressure on his chest, a tightness that he  _knows_ should be fear, and yet, it's numb. A veil of calm oddly settles over him, despite being one wrong movement from falling to his death. 

   Voices surround him, murmurs caught in the whistles of the wind. He can barely hear them at first, then, gradually, they get louder. 

   "Let go, Keith."

   Keith could recognise that voice from anywhere. "Shiro?"

   "Keith, let go."

   Another voice, familiar yet at the same time completely unknown to him. It was James, but his voice was monotonous, almost as though someone had made a robotic clone of him. 

    _"KEITH! LET GO!"_

   A gust of wind plummets through. Keith's hand slips. He gasps, suspended thousands of feet above the ground by only one hand. 

   "Come on, Keith, it's time to  _let go!"_

   Keith begins to feel tears drip down his cheeks. The wind howls and soars, the numbing fear becomes all too real and he struggles to breathe. 

   "I can't!" His hand is slipping. He tries to scramble at the cliff face with his feet, trying to steady them, trying to reach with his other hand to the frail fence just inches away to pull himself up, but he can't reach.

   "You've got to, you've got to let  _go_!"

   "No!" Keith could feel tears drip down his cheeks. There was a pressure on his shoulders, pushing him down. "I can't-no!"

   "KEITH!"

   A final gale crashes through him, and his hand slips. 

 

   Keith falls

 

   Arms catch him and ease him down to the carpeted floor. He gasps, though can't seem to take in any air. His chest feels as though a cold, tight fist is clenching down on his lungs, and he grips onto whoever is holding him tightly,  _too tightly_ , the feeling of falling still present in the back of his mind as his stomach swirls and nausea tumbles through him. 

   Keith heaves, and Lance tenses, arms instinctively reaching for a plastic bag, but thankfully it isn't used.

   "Breathe, Keith,  _breathe._ You're okay. You're safe. C'mon, Keith, in and out, that's it, you're doing really well," the voice whispers. 

   Keith opens his eyes. Lance is there, surrounded by the early morning light coming through the window, looking very much as though he was emitting the light himself. He's not falling, he's grounded. "There we go. Well done, Keith. Just keep breathing for me."

   A blanket is placed over his shoulders. Lance lets Keith clutch onto him still, and Keith is grateful, though distantly wonders if he could be hurting Lance with how tightly he's gripping onto his arms. He can't bring himself to loosen his grip -  _he might fall._

   If it does hurt, Lance doesn't let it show. His calming gaze with those cool blue eyes staunch the burning fear in Keith's chest. 

   "Wanna talk about it?" He asks. Keith slowly shakes his head. "It's okay. You don't have to." Lance takes a deep breath. "Marco called not long ago - you were still asleep. He said Shiro woke up this morning. He's caused quite a fuss with the nurses, asking where a certain loser mullet is." Keith can't muster the energy to even glare at Lance's petty insult. "So now you're awake,  can drive you to see him. If you want to, of course. If you need a moment, that's okay too."

   "No, I want to go, please," Keith mumbles breathlessly as Lance helps him to his feet. "And Lance, thank you. For everything."

   "Lance smiled. "We'd better get moving. Can't keep the guy waiting, huh?"

 

-

 

   Lance struggles to keep up as Keith practically runs through the halls of the hospital, straight for the I.C.U. Marco lets them in after they've washed their hands and leads them to the room. Lance isn't surprised that Marco manages to keep a step in front with Keith's fast pace, remembering all the trophies he'd won back at home for all his running competitions.  _At least one of Mama's sons didn't end up as a disappointment,_ thought Lance, gritting his teeth and urging his legs tot keep up, the packet in his jacket pocket suddenly weighing him down. 

   Marco stops outside the door to speak to Keith, hand positioned on the door handle. Lance could see the bed inside through the glass door, all the machines surrounding the man inside. "His partner just left to grab coffee," Marco explained. "I'll get Dr. Holt to talk to you through everything that happened - just to warn you, though, he uh, they couldn't save his arm. It ended up getting crushed. He's working to get a prosthetic made for him already, though! He really took a liking to Shiro." Marco laughed nervously. Lance placed a hand on Keith's shoulder. 

   "Can I go in?" Keith mumbled, his voice trembling, though it was clear he was trying his best to keep it strong.

  "Of course! He's been asking for you all  _morning._ He refused to rest until he could see you."

   Keith doesn't seem to listen, and just walks through the door as soon as Marco pulls it open. 

   And despite Shiro sitting there with pale, sunken eyes, connected up to several machines and  _missing an arm,_ the first words that leave his mouth (muffled from the oxygen mask) are: "Keith, I'm glad you're okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this seems a little shorter than usual but I felt the chapter best ended here. :)
> 
> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments, kudos and bookmarks by the way!! Seeing those always make my day. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith was tempted to flee, maybe text Curtis later to ask him to bring Shiro some clothes instead, he could survive off of his clothes at Lance’s place for another couple of days. But then Curtis passed into the hall, his movements slow and hesitant, as though Keith was a ticking time-bomb and not his fiancé’s brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't I good to you guys? Have an early update <3

   Lance had quickly retreated after Keith had settled onto the chair pulled up by Shiro's bedside, not letting go of his brother for even a second. He'd mumbled to the foster siblings something about getting some water, and maybe even something to eat if he was allowed to bring food into the ward, and disappeared before Keith could even lift his head. 

   Watching the door softly click shut again, Keith turned back to Shiro, bruises blotching over his pale skin like ink. Keith felt his stomach churn and the guilt buried at the back of his conscience dig its way to the surface. 

   "Shiro, I'm-" 

   "I'm sorry, Keith," Shiro cut through, his hooded eyes not leaving Keith's for a second. "I didn't mean to leave you. What happened? Are you okay?" 

   Keith forced a soft smile. "It doesn't matter. I'm sorry I called you."

   A frown creased over Shiro's brow. "It's not your fault."

   Keith said nothing, only frowned, and if Shiro wasn't so drugged up on painkillers, and who knows what else, he'd have probably called Keith out on the fact that he wasn't even  _trying_ to hide his disbelief at that statement. Instead, Shiro decided to change the subject - intentionally or just because he'd forgotten about what they were originally talking about, Keith had no idea.

   "Was that James?" He'd asked, and it took Keith a second to realise he was talking about Lance. Keith shook his head, brushing Shiro's hair out of his eyes. 

   "No. James says get well soon, though." Keith gave him a smile. "He'll probably come visit at some point."

   "Good. I hope he hasn't lost his touch of sneaking food into the ward. I don't think I fancy hospital food - everything you were given looked  _awful_."

   Keith's jaw clenched and he frowned a little, humming, trying to focus on the fact that Shiro was talking about food, meaning he must be feeling at least a little okay, rather than what he'd referenced. "He was terrified of getting caught, even though half the stuff he brought in was probably allowed."

   "Yeah, not quite the rebel you are - you're a bad influence," Shiro's chuckle ended in a cough. Keith gave Shiro's hand a gentle squeeze, careful of the tubes attached to it. "Who was it then?"

   "He's, uh, Lance," Keith mumbled. Shiro flashed him a concerned look. "He's a...friend? He's the singer of a band James's band supported. He caught me outside waiting for you and, uh, took me to his for the night. I've been staying around his for a few days." He prayed Shiro didn't question  _why_ Keith was staying at Lance's and not in his own home.

   "I'm glad, Keith," Shiro managed a shaky smile, exhaustion dripping from his words.

   "Glad? Why?"

   "That you're being looked after. You deserve it."

   Keith smiled as he pulled the thin covers further over Shiro, and tried his best to restrain himself from pulling him into a hug that would probably do more damage to his broken bones than good. 

 

-

 

   Lance sighed, letting smoke burn through his nostrils as he tapped ash off the end of his cigarette. The smoking room was empty, thankfully, save for one woman hunched in the corner, so he had time to dabble in his thoughts and try to ignore the slight shaking of his hands. 

    He'd gone back to Keith with a couple of coffee's and sandwiches - Marco was still manning the desk and let Lance take them in, and because Keith wasn't there, he'd offhandedly mentioned Lance visiting for the weekend; father's day was fast approaching and they all wanted to get together at Papa McClain's to celebrate. 

   "You need to visit more, Lance," Marco muttered as he typed frantically at the computer. "We hardly see you anymore. Mama misses you too, maybe visit her sometime. You know she gets jealous when we all go visiting Papa and not her."

   Lance had assured Marco he would, though he had kept his fingers crossed behind his back. 

   Family get together's were his absolute  _favourite_ thing as a child. He used to love helping Mama make the dinner, chopping up all the vegetables (only for his mother to sneakily cut them properly before putting them into the pot) while Marco helped Papa clean the house, and Veronica and Sophia set the table. His Aunts would arrive with his (many) cousins and he'd be  _so excited_. Excited for family board games (Veronica would opt to team with him and they  _always_...lost, much to their dismay, as they were both such competitive spirits), the huge amounts of  _food_ and the fact that he was allowed to stay up late. 

   His family used every excuse to meet up. Lance's memories as a child were filled with the grand get-togethers. Barbecues, Christmas, New Years...

   He breathed out another mouthful of smoke.  _Fuck_ , seeing Shiro and Keith, such a small family, just the two of them against the world, made him jealous. That was meant to be  _him_ and his siblings, but they had all parted. They argued, they grew distant - the only reason he and Veronica are talking so much now is because her band she's managing want to tour with them. 

   The cigarette began to burn his fingers so he stubbed it out in the ashtray. Feeling a little more at ease, he drags himself back to the ward. 

   Keith was asleep, like he was before Lance had fled to the smoking area. Lance wasn't surprised, after the nightmare he'd had, he'd probably not gotten much rest. He had a jacket draped over him, which definitely wasn't his if the size was anything to go by, and it couldn't have been Shiro's - definitely  _wasn't_ Lance's because he'd never be caught dead wearing  _brown leather_ , thank you very much. 

   There was a small, rattling cough, and Lance realised Shiro had woken up. They both hesitated, unsure of what to say.

    _Awkward_.

   With a hand still laced in Keith's hair, Shiro gave Lance a soft smile. Lance relaxed a little, letting himself smile back. 

   "You saved him back there when I couldn't, so thank you," Shiro mumbled, his voice soft so as not to wake his foster brother. He let out a frustrated sigh only a moment later. "What kind of brother am I? Letting him destroy himself, put himself in danger?"

   Lance swallowed, unsure of what to say. He remembered distantly the advice Hunk had give him once. "It's his choice. You can't stop him, especially not someone as stubborn as Keith. You've just gotta be there for him. To catch him when he falls."

   Shiro sighs. "That sounds like something Adam used to say. He was always better at dealing with Keith than me. He knew exactly what was the right thing to say, whereas I...I just seem to say all the  _wrong_ things."

   "If I was Keith, I'd just appreciate that you're here for me, no matter how crappy the advice is."

   "Thanks, uh, Lance, was it?" Shiro frowned. "I'm sorry for dragging you into all our family drama. Just...thank you for being there for Keith."

   "It's no problem." Lance cleared his throat. "I, uh, he's a nice guy."

   "Wow, people usually don't like Keith when they first meet him. He's a bit of a handful," Shiro chuckled, though there was a hint of sadness to his tone. "When James and Keith first met, they got into a fight. They  _hated_ each other."

   "Whoa, you are  _not_ telling that story, Shiro!" Lance jolted and turned to see James pushing through the door, one hand on his stomach which seemed to be a little larger than normal. He froze at the sight of Lance, before breathing out a sigh in relief. "Oh, thank fuck. I thought you were a nurse! You really need to stop wearing blue."

   "Says the guy wearing the bright orange sweater?" Lance feigns disgust. 

   "I'll have you know that orange is  _in_ right now!"

   It seemed their arguing had roused Keith from his sleep. "Shut up, James, no one likes you," Keith mutters, trying to get back to sleep. 

   James pouts and brings out a packet of cookies from underneath his jumper. "Guess you're not getting the cookies I snuck in, then, huh?"

   Keith's head snaps up like a puppy at the shake of a treat bag. Lance can't help but laugh.

 

-

 

   Lance places the receipt between the pages of a book and pushes it towards the lady standing in front of him. With his  _dazzling_ customer-service smile, he bid her goodbye, glad to see that no one else was waiting to be served. 

   His manager wasn't around, thankfully, so he takes the time to lean up against the counter and take some time to himself. 

   It had been nice having someone stay in his flat with him again. Keith wasn't really a talker, in fact, as soon as he'd gotten home he'd crash either on the couch, or Lance's bed depending on whether he had the strength to argue with Lance that night or not. Balancing managing his brother's guitar store and visiting him at the hospital, all while trying to avoid Shiro's fiance (Lance couldn't blame him for that one) was exhausting. 

   You know that was  _more_ exhausting than that, though? Having to drive said mullet home from the hospital after a nine hour shift. Keith had offered to take the bus home and walk, but Lance was apparently nice enough to offer.

   Besides, he had other, more pressing things to stress about that were far worse than driving. 

    _Father's day._

   Lance had aimed to just tell Marco that he  _might_ be able to come, then pretend he has a shift that day and stay at home watching Netlix with Blue and decimating a whole tub of ice cream. But no, Marco had promptly gotten so excited that Lance had said he was coming, that he had told  _everyone_ , including Papa. So now he had to, because Papa was so  _excited_ to see him again because he never visited. Lance couldn't think of anything worse than disappointing them, so now he  _had_ to go. Unfortunately.

   During his break, drinking an energy drink he'd bought on the way to work in hopes it'd get him through the shift, he found a message from hunk. 

    ** _Hunk:_** _Still up for our weekly coffee meet up? Pidge wants to boycott Balmera and head to the new dessert place that's opened up in town._

_**Lance:** Fuck yes. I think I deserve ice cream after the week I've had smh_

_**Hunk:** oh yeah, Pidge said what happened_

_**Lance:**  Yup. I'm babysitting -_-_

_**Hunk:** You should invite him!!_

_**Lance:** I guess it'd do him good to have a break. Sure. I'll invite him ^-^_

Lance saw his co-worker, Bee, trail into the break room and sighed, packing his things back into his locker, hoping the next half goes quick so he can get home. 

 

-

 

   "I'm lactose intolerant."

   "Hold up,  _that's_ your excuse?!" Lance shouted over the loud music coming out from his radio, briefly glancing at Keith.

   "It's true!" Keith pouted, tearing bits of plastic off from the carrier bag that had some of Shiro's clothes he'd worn this week inside. 

   "Dude,  _stop that_. What is it with you and destroying everything you get a hold of?" Lance had literally given Keith a sheet of paper earlier with a list of equipment they needed to check they had for the tour, just for an extra pair of eyes in case Lance missed anything. Within minutes the bottom corner of the page looked as though a rabbit had chewed through it.

   "Nervous habit. Sorry." Keith muttered, clenching his fists round the handles as though trying to urge himself to stop. 

   "Okay," Lance sighed. "And being lactose intolerant is a shit excuse, Keith."

   "How?"

   "Have you ever heard of the term dairy free? Or vegan? Besides, I didn't see you complaining about your intolerance when you ate not one, but  _four_ of the cookies James had brought in the other day. You're coming with us."

   "But Shiro-"

   "Shiro would rather you be out eating ice cream with amazing and handsome company - that's  _me_ \- than watch him sleep for a few hours."

   Keith sighed. "Fine, but could you please ask your brother to call you if anything happens?"

   "We don't even have to ask," Lance reassured. "But I'll text him now. So you're coming?"

   Keith nodded. He looked unsure, even a little nervous. Lance let out a small cheer.

   "Hunk's really nice. Pidge is too. She can be a bit blunt and scary but she means well. You'll get on well with them."

   "I hope so," Keith mumbled. He'd gone back to fiddling with the bag. Lance didn't stop him this time. 

   "How's things with Curtis going? Are you still avoiding him?" Lance asked. 

   "Yeah. Shiro keeps saying he's looking to find me to talk, but..." Keith sighed. 

   "You should talk to Shiro, Keith. He can't just say that stuff to you."

   "I know, it's just...he makes Shiro so happy and I can't do it. I can't take that away from him."

   Lance frowns, but doesn't push Keith. He has so many questions floating around his head, that have been lingering since he'd first  _properly_ met Keith; about whoever this Adam is, and why Curtis and Keith's relationship is so strained. He wants to ask, but Keith just looks so exhausted, leaning his head against the window and watching the world flicker by with darkened eyes, so he simply turned up the music a notch, and let it settle between them.

   He could ask Keith another time.

 

-

 

    Lance drops Keith off at Shiro's flat on their way to his, so Keith can drop off the clothes that need washing and collect some more. he also needed some more clothes to bring around Lance's for himself. 

   He was hoping Curtis was still at the hospital, or had left for work. Though he hadn't made any further comments since that day in the hospital, Keith couldn't help but try his best to avoid him. He ended up catching Curtis visiting Shiro multiple times, but he'd always mumbled something about leaving to get coffee, and hadn't come back until Keith was on his way out. He at least respected that Keith would need some time with Shiro alone.

   Today, however, Curtis was home, and his muffled voice called Keith into the kitchen.

   Keith was tempted to flee, maybe text Curtis later to ask him to bring Shiro some clothes instead, he could survive off of his clothes at Lance's place for another couple of days. But then Curtis passed into the hall, his movements slow and hesitant, as though Keith was a ticking time-bomb and  _not_ his fiance's brother.

   "Hey, uh, can we talk?" He asked. He was in his uniform - he worked down at the local police station and was probably starting his nightshift soon. It was usually so pristine and well worn, showing just how much Curtis valued his work. Now, however, Keith could see he'd failed to iron his shirt, and though he passed off as presentable, Keith knew that for Curtis's standards, this was sloppy. He was a neat-freak, as Shiro so fondly called him, always tidying up their flat for Keith and Shiro, who were quite frankly  _disasters_ when it came to tidiness.

   "Lance is waiting in the car," was Keith's excuse, leather boots squeaking a little as he shuffled closer to the door. They were still new, still rubbed as Keith tried his best to break them in, but it seemed to be taking forever.

   "It won't take a while. I can drive you back to his place if he's got somewhere to go," Curtis mumbled, clasping his hands together. "Please, Keith. It's important. I  _need_ to do this," he pleaded softly. 

   Keith sighed and passed into the kitchen. After a few seconds, as though he had to process that Keith was actually doing as he asked, for once, without Shiro having to repeat the question, he followed. 

   Two mugs of tea were set on the table already, and a plate of cookies. The oven fan was still on and the smell of baking was still prominent in the kitchen. It was then when he'd noticed the slight spot of flour on Curtis's cheek. 

   "You've got, uh, flour," Keith awkwardly tapped his own cheek, before taking a seat, looking to the plate of cookies. Curtis's baking was never as good as Adam's - if only because everything he cooked, he made sure Keith cooked with him. He always said that baking was therapeutic, a positive and healthy way of relieving the stress that always clouded Keith's mind. He also joked that Keith showed the most potential out of him and Shiro and if one day he disappeared, him and Shiro needed to be able to survive more on takeaway foods.

   Still, Keith took one after Curtis made a gesture for him to help himself.

   "This is a, uh, peace offering," Curtis mumbled, not taking a seat, instead shuffling from foot to foot, hands still clasped together. "I know you hate serious talks around the table and I understand, but...I don't know how else to do it." He sighed. "I just want to apologise, Keith. I know what I said was  _horrible_ and I'm not asking you to forgive me, just to understand." Curtis's hand fell onto the back of his seat, clutching onto it for support, but he didn't make an effort to sit down. "I was hurt, and worried, and I  _don't_ blame you, it wasn't your fault and it was awful for me to take it out on you when you...when you were in that kind of state. I was just scared and if I didn't blame you I'd have started blaming myself for not going with him and...I'm just a coward." Curtis slumped into the chair, sinking his head into his hands. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

   Keith stayed silent, watching Curtis's hands tremble as he tugged some strands of hair. "And I'm also sorry that I can't be Adam. You and Shiro put him up on this pedestal and I get it, he sounds like he was an amazing guy, but I just can't be him. I can never live up to who he was, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that because of that, I'm tearing you and Shiro apart, and that I was too selfish to do anything sooner. I'll...I'll help you get Shiro through his recovery, then I'll leave."

   Keith froze, watching droplets gather on the table where Curtis was hunched. The guilt was smothering Keith - first Shiro's accident was his fault, and now he'd pushed Curtis to  _tears_ because Keith was pathetic and couldn't let go of the past? If anyone was meant to leave for Shiro's happiness, it was  _him_ , not Curtis. He knew how much it would  _break_ Shiro if another partner left him. 

   Instead of voicing that, of rushing out the door and running away from the situation like his conscience begged, he stayed put, and whispered: "do you want to leave him?"

   "No, I don't, but I have to. I don't want to get in the way."

   "You're not getting in the way! How could you say that?" Keith pried Curtis's hands away from his face. "Mine and Shiro's arguments are on  _us_ , not you. In fact, most of the time I'm pretty sure you're trying to cool us down." Though Keith knew it was worthless; Shiro and Keith were like fire and gasoline, so perfectly fitting, but one wrong move and it could lead to destruction. "Besides, you  _can't_ leave Shiro. He loves you - do you really think he'd propose to you if he didn't?" He sighed. "I'm really sorry if I made you feel like you had to replace Adam, or live up to who he was. It's just been really hard for me to let him go. He's done so much for me and it still hurts. I'm sorry I took it out on you. You don't  _need_ to replace Adam - Shiro adn I don't want you to do that. I can't stop you from leaving him, but, if you love Shiro,  _please_ don't let hi go. I haven't seen him as happy as he is with you since Adam left. You're one of the best things that has happened to him."

   "Thank you, Keith," Curtis mumbled, his voice hoarse. "I'd uh, I'd better get to work. I'm late already," he chuckled nervously. "I'm not allowed to work on Shiro's case, but they've found who's crashed into him. They think he was a drunk driver, as usual," Curtis muttered the last part bitterly. "I also need to ask about that night, when you rang up Shiro. Did you need to report anything? You're technically not family so I can probably convince Iverson to let me take up the case if you're not comfortable talking about it to a stranger."

   "I can handle it, but thank you," Keith mumbled, the piece of cookie in his mouth becoming too chewy, clagging in his mouth and making it hard to swallow.

   Curtis hesitated. "What  _did_ happen that night, Keith?"

   Keith instinctively touched his nose, the bruising still there, painful if he prodded it, but other than that, fine. What wasn't  _fine_ was the image flashing across his mind of the fist crashing into his face, the memories of the hands crawling up his body, and he flinched into himself a little. 

   "Nothing. I'm okay." Keith reassured, but he failed to convince even  _himself_ with those words.

   Curtis didn't pry, and instead said: "if anything happens like that again, you  _can_ call me, y'know. I know we're not all that close but I want to help."

   Keith manages a smile. "Thank you, Curtis, I really appreciate it."

   Curtis returns the smile, shrugging on his brown leather jacket, and they both part ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you guys, or if I'm just really weird, but when I get nervous and I have a piece of paper or anything tearable in my hands, I end up tearing off little bits of it without even noticing. Oops.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Keith, we need a word.”

   Lance was alone, again.

   He had thought that the crushing weight of loneliness, forever pressing onto his weary shoulders, would have eased even after Keith had left. Or, at least, it would have felt lighter than when he had first began living alone.

   Truth was, it was  _worse._

   Before Keith had stumbled into Lance's daily life, the loneliness he'd felt day upon day had numbed and become a sensation he was so familiar with, it was merely a gentle buzz in the back of his conscience. It was something he could easily remember, something more often than not, he forgot the presence of. 

   But Keith had given Lance a taste of what it was to have company again, as quiet and withdrawn as that company was. He had reminded Lance of what it felt like to  _not_ feel as though he was imprisoned in a cold and empty cell that was meant to be his own home. He'd reminded him of the feeling of waking up every morning to be greeted by an (albeit grumbled) good morning, of having a source to unload his thoughts, an outlet of any fond memories or useless knowledge that filters across his mind throughout the day.

   He'd even enjoyed it when he and Keith bickered over things as mundane as to who could gulp down their can of beer the fastest (Keith, it was  _always_ Keith), or who was right about a certain fact about an actor from whatever movie they'd decided to watch that night (Lance was proud to say it was always  _him_ who won that one).

   Truth was, Keith reminded Lance of what it was like to  _live_ again. Sure, he had Hunk and Pidge, and even Allura, who would all visit him without hesitation, but they  _knew_ Lance. They were so dear and precious to him, that should they come round and discover his tendencies, the secrets he'd buried deep into the darkest corners of his mind, he could very well lose them - and that could  _never_ happen. 

   But Keith? Keith was a stranger. Lance first thought he was disposable; if he caught whiff of Lance's secret and ran, it wouldn't hurt. Keith hadn't been important to Lance, they barely  _knew_ each other. Keith was  _safe._

    _So why,_ Lance questioned, as he lay on the couch, the cracks in the ceiling swimming with flickering candlelight, looking as though he was underwater, looking up at the rippling of the tide,  _was he losing sleep over the fact that Keith had left him?_

 

_-_

 

   Curtis hadn't returned from work by the time Keith had woken up, so he sat alone in Shiro's kitchen, the radio filtering quietly through the room, complimented by the low hum of traffic filtering by and the clink of the spoon stirring Keith's coffee. He'd felt lighter than he had done for a while; maybe it was because he and Curtis had been acting more civil with each other than they'd done since they'd met. 

   Keith was mostly to blame, and it had taken a long night of tossing and turning in his own bed to come to terms with that. 

   For some reason, he missed Lance's flat, waking up to the sound of Lance whispering to Blue in the morning as she yowled for her food, and the gentle knock on the door as he brought Keith in coffee to try and coax him to get up. 

   Lance hadn't text him since the day he'd left. Not even after Keith had text him a simple 'text me when you're here' this morning. 

   He tried not to think too hard on that, or else he'd end up stirring up feelings he definitely  _didn't_ want to have when alone. Especially not when he was already anxious about going out for lunch somewhere with a bunch of strangers who, if Keith remembered correctly, were childhood friends. 

   Matt, unprompted (though Keith was certain Lance and Pidge were involved), had agreed to cover Keith's shift at the guitar shop, so Keith really  _did_ have no excuse not to go. He'd tried to get James to try and make up an excuse, tell him that he specifically needed Keith for  _something_ so that he didn't feel guilty for lying to Lance, but James had simply laughed at him from the other end of the line and told him that going out with Lance and his friends would do him good - just so long as he 'didn't come home with any new best friends'. Especially after a few days ago, when James had let himself into Shiro's flat and went into, as Keith liked to call it, 'mother-hen mode'.

   He'd stood in the doorway to the lounge and put his hands on his hips, glaring at Keith who was almost falling asleep filing through the rota's for next month, and instructed Keith to go straight to bed. Apparently Keith had been overworking himself at the shop. At least James hadn't figured out that Keith had hardly been sleeping, either. 

   "You need to take a break!" He'd scolded, carting him into his bedroom, and tucked him into bed despite his protests."So don't you dare let me hear that you went to work instead of going out with Lance, okay?"

   Keith valued his life, and so, he waited to be picked up from Shiro's flat at 10AM, wondering how the hell they were  _willingly_ going to eat dessert so early in the morning - wasn't it meant to be a  _lunch_ date?

   Keith almost fell out of his chair when his phone chimed. Lance had text a simple 'here', and Keith felt a thrill of adrenaline rush through him - excitement or nervousness, Keith wasn't too sure, all he knew was that he  _definitely_ needed to get out more - and quickly slung on his jacket and rushed out the door. 

   The muffled sound of a pop band that was so  _Lance_ drifted through the near-empty car park, and Keith rushed towards it. Lance had parked in the same place he usually did; in Shiro's space, and Keith found himself smiling a little. 

   Lance seemed to be on the phone, not noticing Keith approach, so he knocked gently on the window. Lance startled and looked up as Keith timidly waved, though kept his expression neutral. Keith's own smile wilted as he pulled open the door, cold air from the air-con rushing over him. 

   "Hey," he somehow managed, hesitating. Lance had to beckon him to sit down.

   "Keith, we need a word."

   "Uh, okay?" Keith's chest tightened as he took a seat. His heart rate spiked and he clenched his jaw, mind immediately forming explanations to Lance's cold demeanour, from  _he hates you, you've ruined it again,_ to  _is Shiro okay? Did Marco think it was best for Lance to break the bad news to him?_

   "I received that  _delivery._ " Lance's glare was piercing, though the corner of his mouth twitched. Keith managed a shaky sigh in relief, hands unclenching from around his sleeves. "You got me an  _echo shifter_?! Those things are so expensive, Keith! You've gotta take it back, or let me pay for some of it! I can't let you-"

   "Lance, relax," Keith cut through his panicked ramblings. "I got it out of the shops account, it's all good."

   "I don't know if I feel any better with that information. Will Shiro kill you? Kill  _me_?"

   "No, but I might end up doing overtime to pay for it if he finds out."

   " _Keith!_ " 

   "Look, I just wanted to get you something to say thank you, okay? You really helped me out of a tough spot and I've kinda depended on you for the past couple of weeks. Just let me do this. It's not like you'd take rent and petrol money from me, anyway."

   Lance pouted, before somehow managing to hug Keith, turning awkwardly and hitting his elbow on the steering wheel in the process.

   "Stubborn," Lance muttered into Keith's shoulder. "You are  _way_ too stubborn."

 

-

 

    The sound of loud pop music blares through the speakers as they walk into the brightly coloured shop, with silver sparkling decorations and pink neon lights  _everywhere._ A counter spread across almost the entirety of the left shop was filled with trays upon trays of various ice creams, ranging from the classic mint chocolate chip to the craziest flavours Keith had ever heard of (was that an  _olive oil_ ice cream?!). Teens sat in booths laughing and talking loudly with desserts so huge and colourful Keith could already feel his jaw start to ache from all of the  _sugar._

   Pidge jumped up and down from her place in their booth they were given upon walking through the door, talking about how the choice was completely impossible for her. Hunk tried to reign her in a little, asking if she was  _certain_ she wanted a peanut butter sundae, waffles  _and_ a cream soda float. He  _tried_ , though certainly didn't succeed.

   "If you vomit in my car on the way home, you're paying to get it cleaned," Lance muttered, looking a little overwhelmed at all the options on the menu that was so large it was hanging off the table. "Actually, no, you vomit in my car, you're paying for a  _new_ car."

   "I'm sure your upholstery has seen worse stains than-" Hunk covered Pidge's mouth, looking a little nauseous himself.

   "Enough of the vomit talk, please! Pidge, this place is literally around the corner from your house, you don't have to try everything on the menu  _now_ , you can always come back later with Matt."

   "Fine. Matt and I will try the entire menu  _without_ you boring-asses." Pidge folded her arms and pouted, looking very much like a small child. "Are you all ready to order yet? I'm wasting away over here."

   "You  _just_ drank a milkshake on the drive here," Hunk pointed out. Lance jolted from craning over the menu, almost head-butting Keith. 

   "How many times have I said  _no_ drinks or food in my new car?!  _Pidge!_ "

   Pidge quickly stood, climbing over Hunk to get out of the booth. "And now I'm going to order my food," she mock saluted. 

   Lance was about to chase after her, before pausing and looking to Keith, who was still looking through the menu, honestly a little overwhelmed with the choice, atmosphere  _and_ Lance's friends. 

   Lance leant back into his seat an huffed, pulling out his wallet. "What're you eating, princess?"

   Hunk rolled his eyes. Lance stuck his tongue out at him. 

   Keith sighed and stood up, ignoring Lance's nickname for him. "What do you want, Lance? I'll get it."

   "Oh no, no you don't. You're not getting my food for me,  _I_ was gonna get  _yours_."

   "Tough." Keith folded his arms. "You gave me a place to stay for a week, and saved my ass from..." His arms folded across his chest tighter. "Hypothermia, probably. The least I can do is get you ice cream."

   Lance begrudgingly recited off his order after realising that Keith was  _not_ going to back down, and honestly, was Lance  _really_ going to turn down free ice cream?

   Keith gave Lance a smile, asked Hunk if he wanted anything, to which Hunk explained Pidge was buying his, before joining Pidge in the queue. When he took his place just behind her, he looked back to their booth, noticing Hunk talking to Lance with a sly smile, causing Lance to shout loudly for him to shut up. 

   Something tugged at Keith's sleeve and he looked down a little to see Pidge smirking up at him. 

   "So," She drawled, eyes darting to their booth. "Lance, huh?"

   Keith hesitated. "What about Lance?"

   "Well, Lance lets  _no one_ over his apartment. I'm pretty sure even  _Hunk_ has only been there once to help him move in. What makes you so special?"

   "I mean, I don't think I'm all that special to him. I-I guess he just felt he had to, y'know? Charity case?" Keith shrugged. It was a question he'd been asking himself deep in the painstakingly sleepless nights he's been having. 

   "He felt he just  _had_ to pick up some hot guy after offering him his couch for a week, and drive him around the city to the hospital every day, then invite him out with his friends on their traditional weekly lunch-date? Even though said hot guy moved back out a week ago? He just  _had_ to do that, huh?"

   "I'm not really sure what you're trying to say-" Keith tried to take a step back. 

   "And now you're buying him lunch?"

   "Uh, yeah, I've gotta say thank you some way, right?"

   "Are you sure that's not the only reason?" Pidge raised an eyebrow, a sly smile stretching onto her face.

   Keith had never been more thankful for someone calling 'next, please!' in his life. Pidge quickly forgot about their conversation in favour for being another step closer to getting her beloved food and skipped to the till. 

   Keith was thankfully distracted from their conversation, too, ordering his cookie-dough and Lance's strawberry waffles. By the time he'd gotten back to their booth, he found himself plunged into the middle of an argument. 

   "-I'll have you know that those lyrics were  _not_ about having sex in a car!" Lance squawked, causing a mother to glance over with a disapproving glare.

   " _Lance!_ " Hunk hissed, giving the mother an apologetic smile. 

   Keith sat down slowly whilst Pidge burst out laughing, slamming her fist against the table. 

   "Lance, that song is  _so_ obvious. What were you doing? Writing with your left hand and-"

   Hunk grabbed her fist before she could make a motion that may well get them kicked out of the establishment. "Pidge, you do not want us to get kicked out from another cafe! We're running out of places to go!"

   "Yeah," Lance folded his arms. "Keith, I present to you the reason we change out lunch date location  _every week._ "

   Pidge mutters something against Hunk's hand.

   "Anyway," Hunk cut through. "Here, the money for my food." He shoves the notes into Pidge's face, which shuts her up long enough for Hunk to get his hand back. "Keith, how is Shiro doing?"

   Keith smiled a little. "Shiro's surgery to fit the bionic arm is next week. He's pretty nervous about it. He's started eating though - the nurses are really impressed with his recovery."

   "That's because I graced him with my presence last week," Lance announced. 

   "I'm pretty sure James has said the exact same thing," Keith chuckled, just as a lady with a tray of desserts steps over. Keith mentally makes a note to take James here sometime, he'd have an absolute field day here.

   "You and James are pretty close, huh?" Hunk continued the conversation as Pidge stole a forkful of Lance's food, promptly causing them to bicker again. Pidge almost climbed out the booth with her ice cream in her hand to stop him from stealing some of hers in return.

   Hunk ignores them, so Keith tries to do the same. "Yeah, we've known each other since we started high school," Keith mumbled, "I mean at first we were enemies - the first time we met, I punched him in the face," he chuckled a little at the memory. "Shit happened and we were thrown together by the school to do uh...private group stuff with a couple of other students, and we realised we had a lot in common. We've been inseparable since." Keith laughed with a shrug, skimming over the fact that he and James had become friends during the school's crappy excuse of a  _group therapy_ programme for them.

   "You sound like me and Lance!" Hunk's eyes lit up. "I mean, minus the punching each other in the face. We knew each other in middle school but we never really spoke. In high school we shared the same math class. The first conversation we had was about his pet chickens," Hunk laughed. 

   "And then we met this bitch in college!" Lance held Pidge's ice cream up out of her reach as he spooned some into his mouth quickly. "Hey, Keith, you don't play drums by any chance? Our drummer's a  _little shit._ "

   "I can only do a couple of grooves," Keith mumbled, voice barely audible over the sound of Pidge screaming at Lance. "Guitar is more my thing. Shiro plays drums though! Or, he used to. I don't know how that's gonna work now."

   "It'll be fine!" Pidge stopped tugging Lance's hair. "The prosthetic dad's chosen will allow him to move properly. It'll take a lot of practise but he should be able to play them again!"

   Keith smiled. "I can't thank your dad enough for what he's done for us, Pidge."

   "Just seeing Shiro pull through and make a healthy recovery will be enough thanks for him," Pidge returned the smile. 

   The conversation fell flat for a while, though Keith was thankful to realise it wasn't the awkward silence he was so often used to when around new people. Lance at some point had kicked Pidge from under the table (which he claimed was an accident), and Pidge had immediately yelled that it wasn't fair, because she couldn't actually  _reach_ him with her short legs. The two were very much chaos personified when they got together. The slightest tease or action would set the other off and they'd erupt inot bouts of (harmless) arguments. 

   Just as Lance flicked a syrup-covered stalk of a strawberry at Pidge, Keith decided to ask: "so, how did Paladin's become a thing?" He saved Lance from having Pidge's sloppy remains fo her cream soda and strawberry ice cream float from being tipped over his head (and therefore Keith as well, since they were sitting close together.)

“Oh, well, Hunk and I have always bee crazy about music.” Lance started. “We had another guitarist too, and I could sing, all we needed was a drummer. We had a few drummers here and there, but none were really that passionate about it. Then we met Pidge.” 

“When I told Lance I played drums he almost fainted,” Pidge reminisced with a chuckle. “He was convinced I was lying. We went to one of the practise rooms and he demanded I play for him. I’m pretty sure he _did_ faint when I started playing Chop-Suey.”

“A moment that changed my life forever,” Lance mumbled dramatically, a hand to his forehead.

“We played a lot of shows at college, only covers,” Hunk continued, “Lance started writing songs and our ex-guitarist managed to get us into playing at local bars around the area.”

Lance tensed from next to Keith, and yet still he found the words: “ex-guitarist?” Tumbling from his lips.

“Let’s not talk about this,” Lance muttered, and Pidge closed her mouth, looking to Lance with a concerned frown. He almost seemed to curl in on himself as he pushed his plate towards Pidge for her to finish.

Hunk cleared his throat, eyes not leaving Lance as he quickly blurts: “Allura started playing for us when we signed up to Altea. Her Uncle’s our manager, he saw us play once and was really impressed with our songs and wanted to sign us. Lance is a really good songwriter - people can really relate to them, y’know?”

Pidge allowed herself to smirk. “I don’t know, Hunk, he _did_ just show me a song that’s _definitely_ about having sex in a car.”

She bit her lip, preparing herself for an onslaught, but it never came. Keith shuffled, the awkwardness weighing down on them. Keith couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault - he shouldn’t have tried to pry further when it was clear Lance was uncomfortable with the subject.

“We are actually looking for someone to play guitar! Allura was gonna do it, but we kinda need her to play keys,” Hunk blurted out again, and Keith wasn’t sure if it was making things better, or worse anymore. “So if you know anyone, please send them our way!” 

Keith made a mental note to never tell James that story. He knew _exactly_ what his friend would say after hearing _that._

“Lance sucks at multitasking, that’s why he can’t do it,” Pidge attempts to tease again. This time Lance takes the bait, and if Pidge’s squeak is anything to go by, kicks her under the table.

“I don’t! I just can’t play songs that were originally meant to be played with _two_ guitarists!” Lance muttered, though Keith could still practically taste the bitterness to his words. It seemed Hunk and Pidge noticed too, as they both exchanged weary looks, before Hunk quickly announced that they should probably depart. 

Lance insisted on driving Keith back home again, and for most of the journey they were silent, not touching on the seemingly sensitive subject of their band line-up.The radio humming quietly between them starts to mumble about father’s day deals, and Lance curses softly, though doesn’t speak as to why. Keith bites his lip, tempted to ask, but decides against it. 

Instead he watches the pale rays of the early afternoon sun flicker across Lance’s tanned skin, the way his brow creases slightly in concentration as he navigates his way through the city’s traffic, his lips still glistening from the chapstick he’d used just before they’d started their journey. 

Keith distantly wondered if they’d taste like strawberry syrup, before catching himself and shaking his head, tearing his gaze away.

Keith had stayed round many stranger’s houses to get away from Homelife over his lifetime, only for them to become a distant memory as soon as he walked out their door. Why was Lance different? Why couldn’t he get Lance _out_ of his head?

It was because Lance was kind to him in a moment of need, he was there to do and say what Keith needed at the time, Keith excused. But, as he took yet another glimpse of the man next to him, of his mesmerising eyes and freckles speckled over his small nose, how Keith longed to be held and bury his nose into the shoulder of Lance’s signature jacket, breathing strawberries and nicotine the scents that were just so purely _Lance_ , he realised that the reason was something entirely different.

Keith knew he was in store for yet another long, sleepless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first this chapter was all soft and was going to be a break from all the angst but then my hand slipped oops


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just hold my hand for a little while,
> 
> Misery never goes out of style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith plays/sings this song (Misery by Creeper), in case any of you lovely people would like to give it a listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BT83wjfs0lM

   Lance sighs, adjusting the guitar on his knee as Blue tries to swipe at his hand as it moves up and down the fretboard, his voice barely raised above a whisper as he plucks at the strings. He sings from his notebook, open and covered with scribbled out words, barely intelligible from the amount of rewritten and crossed out lyrics littering the pages. He lets the music he makes fill up his conscience, trying to ease away the crushing silence of his flat with his music.

   Some days he just wanted to pack his few belongings he owned into his bag, grab Blue and move back in with Mama, but he just  _couldn't_ do that. Moving back in to leech of his Mama's hospitality again was just out of the question - Lance would be considered a failure, and his Mama would be bound to find out his secrets, and he just couldn't let  _anyone_ find out. Not even Keith, anymore. 

   Keith. Lance couldn't stop thinking about that  _stupid_ mullet; his shy, almost restrained smiles; his laugh, so quiet and breathy, barely there; the way his eyes sparkled around those he loved. Lance admired how caring and loyal he was to those he considered family, defending them without a second thought.

    Lance wished he could be like that. He wished that he could feel such passion, such admiration for his family that he'd fight for them with his final burning breath. 

   He used to feel that way, but the flames had since died down to mere glowing embers. It had been that way ever since the inevitable collapse of his family; his mother and father deciding to file a divorce (a memory Lance would unfortunately have ingrained in his mind for the rest of his life, no doubt).

   He'd remembered being on holiday with his family, of all places. The taste of strawberry ice cream still lingered on Lance's sticky lips, his skin prickly with sand and arms carrying his towel with his water gun. 

   It was there, of all places, that he'd witnessed his family shatter apart. His Mama and Papa had been drinking one too many bottles of wine on the beach, and when walking down the dully lit streets on their way back to the hotel, his mother and father had burst into an argument. Veronica, being the eldest, had instantly taken charge and carted the other three children back to the hotel whilst Mama and Papa resorted to screaming at each other in the middle of the street. Veronica had stolen some emergency money from papa's suitcase in the hotel and taken them all down to the hotel bar for something to drink and to play cards. Lance had barely taken notice, simply clutching onto the cards so tightly they were bent and breaking in his hold. His eyes stung as he bit his lip and tried to stay strong enough not to cry, unlike Sophia, who Veronica had hugged and helped choose the right cards. 

   Lance had been unable to stop thinking about how Papa had almost tugged Mama off her feet to try and stop her from leaving, or how Mama had slapped Papa and thrown her wedding ring at him. 

   His voice rasped and he switched to the bridge, slowing to a lighter, softer tune. 

   It hadn't taken long for the tear between Mama and Papa to reach their children too. At first, they'd all carted themselves off to Papa's every other weekend to stay around his, though as time went on and Papa had met other women, every other week became every month, then every month became rarer still. Marco had gotten into an argument with Mama after claiming that she was trying to stop them from going round Papa's house, and promptly moved out to live with Papa afterwards. Sophia followed because she  _always_ followed Marco. Lance stayed with Veronica, but she soon moved out to live with her friends. Marco had moved across the country to study medical science, and Sophia had decided to live on campus at a different college, just in the next town, studying art. 

   Lance had been the only 'child' left. Being the youngest, he was carted between houses and used as guilt-trips for the other parent, or as a defence. He felt as though he had to defend each parent in their absence, being told he just  _had_ to say a certain excuse should the other parent complain.

   Feeling so torn and in the middle was what had eventually pushed Lance to move out himself, even though he knew he couldn't necessarily afford it, and neither Hunk nor Pidge could flat-share because they were both happy still living with their own families. He just couldn't take being in the middle anymore. 

   That's why Lance was dreading today. Father's Day. He was due to go to his Papa's in three hours. He could hardly calm the swirling in his gut, knowing it was going to break out and end in disaster, as family meet ups always did nowadays. It was the reason Lance distanced himself - he couldn't cope with the inevitable arguments set to break out. Couldn't cope with feeling so  _torn_ and in the middle all the time. 

   The last time he'd gone, his father had called him a disappointment, a nobody with no prospects nor goal in life.

   Lance's guitar string snapped under the pressure of which he was beating at his strings, slicing across his palm. He hissed, tossing his guitar aside in frustration and stomping into his bedroom, rummaging through his draws. He tried to ignore the family photo kept on his bedside table, pulling it forward so it was facedown.

   "E, where is it?" He muttered, pulling out his packet of strings, searching through them. "Fuck," he muttered, upon realising he was all out of E strings.

   Just as he was about to try and attempt to put a different string on as a substitute for an E (and hope it didn't sound bad enough to last until payday), his shrill text-tone echoed through the flat. He lifted it up to see a text from Keith.

   It was a photo of Keith with his thumbs up and an exhaustedly relieved smile tugging at his lips. Lance smiled a little, spotting Shiro fast asleep on the bed behind Keith. James was sat on the other side, pretending to arm wrestle with what looked to be a metallic arm, dramatically kneeling on the ground with a face of exertion.

    _ **Mullet:** Shiro got through surgery!! x_

_**Lance:** Yessss I'm so happy for you both! Also have you got any e strings lying around anywhere??? Kinda broke mine just now x_

_**Mullet:** come down to the shop in an hour and I'll give you one. Idiot._

_**Lance:** I'll let you have that one._

_**Mullet:** ;)_

_-_

 

When Lance steps through the doors two hours later, he's met with the usual alternative music playing through the speakers, though quietly this time, and the strumming of a guitar. 

   The shop was empty save for Keith, who was sitting on the counter, legs crossed with a guitar in his lap. His eyes were closed as his hand plucked at the strings. Lance recognised the song immediately to be from James's band, hearing Keith sing the lyrics, so quietly and softly, under his breath. 

   It was one of the only songs Lance remembered so vividly from the set; standing in the background in awe, taken back to years ago, when the four of them in their band were carting themselves in Pidge's dad's car, promising Pidge's mother that they'd get Pidge back in time for school the next day, playing in the grubbiest bars and clubs they could find. Lance would stand before the near-empty room, looking through the smoke to the only person who even cared about their performance. He'd sing his heart out to Her, the only person he truly felt he could spend the rest of his life with-

   Lance slipped and the door pushed open, the bell ringing and making Keith startle, almost falling off of the counter he was perched on top of. His fingers played a jarring sound, missing the chord. His gaze locked onto Lance's, eyes wide in what Lance assumed was shock, or even fear, as though he was a child being caught doing something he shouldn't. His face burned red in the evening sunlight, the red rays casting across his usually pale skin. The lighting made Keith's scar running down his cheek, something barely noticeable in regular lighting, cast darkly across his skin. 

   They stayed silent for a second, Lance struggling to swallow down the unwanted emotions stirred by Keith's choice of song. He wanted to tease Keith, maybe even crack a joke of some sort, but he couldn't find the words. 

   Eventually Lance cleared his throat and shrugged his guitar case off from his shoulders. "Sorry, I uh, I didn't mean to interrupt-"

   "It's okay," Keith mumbled, letting the tousled locks of onyx hair fall over his face, as though hiding himself from Lance. 

   Lance rubbed his arm, watching Keith nervously pluck at the strings of his guitar.

    _Come on, Lance, say something!_

"So," Lance let his voice drag out, until Keith lifted up his head again. "I heard James rave about how 'good' you are at stringing a guitar, and I  _hate_ doing it, so..."

   He stepped over, holding it out to Keith. Keith took it from him. "Uh, yeah. I can do that. I was gonna suggest you restring the whole thing if we're gonna use a different brand...if that's okay?"

   "I uh, can only afford one-" 

   "Don't worry about it," Keith waved Lance off, and Lance wanted to argue, but he really didn't have the money right now. He simply watched Keith gently set Lance's guitar onto the counter and slip himself down. He watched how Keith worked, how his tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, leg twitching to the beat of the music drifting around them. Dark shadows from the dying light chiseled Keith's features, his eyes glinting with sparks of flame as he shifted.

   It was a lot warmer here, so Lance took off his jacket, leaving it on the counter next to Keith.

   "So, are you, uh, doing anything today?" Keith mumbled, retreating back behind his mop of hair.

   "Yeah," Lance nodded, seeing Keith's shoulders slump a little as he moved onto the next string. "I've gotta visit my papa, father's day and all."

   "Oh, yeah, of course," Keith nodded with a small frown. "I kinda feel sorry for Sam, having to work that long to do surgery on fathers day."

   "He wouldn't mind," Lance reassured. "How is Shiro, anyway?"

   "Sleeping. He's gotta stay and do some form of therapy for the arm and uh, other stuff," Keith mumbled awkwardly. "Physically, he's really good, though. They said if things go well, he should be able to go home soon."

   Lance placed a hand on Keith's shoulder. Keith paused his work. "That's really great to hear, Keith. I'm so happy for Shiro, and you. That must be a big weight off your shoulders."

   "Yeah, it is," Keith mumbled, a small smile playing at his lips as he continued his work. "Do you want to leave this with me and pick this up later? I don't want to get in between you and visiting your father."

   "No, no, its fine. I'll be staying late, I don't want to keep you here."

   "Oh, uh, I'll probably be here late too. Getting on with work, and stuff."

   Lance decided not to question how there was no way Keith would be keeping the shop open so late, or that there'd be any work to do that he couldn't already do at home, instead opting for just reassuring Keith he was fine to wait.

   "Honestly, Keith, they're probably not even there yet."

   Keith believed Lance's lie, or at least, decided not to take it any further, them both settling to a comfortable silence.

   Eventually, Keith had the guitar stringed up, and had even tuned it for Lance.

   "Wow, I almost believe that you think I can't tune my own guitar," Lance placed a hand to his chest in mock-hurt.

   Keith gave Lance a bored look. "That's because I  _do_ think that, idiot," he gave Lance a playful shove, which Lance returned. 

   Reluctantly, Lance realised he couldn't kill time anymore, and really did have to leave to get to his fathers. As he passed to the door, he mumbled a quiet: "that was really good, by the way."

   "What?" Keith frowned from his place sitting back on the counter, picking at the laces on his scuffed cherry-red doc martens.

   "When you were playing Misery. It was...nice." Lance winced at his awkward words, but surely it was better than saying that it was so beautiful and had filled Lance with such a melancholic nostalgia that he felt like he was suffering heartbreak all over again.

   Keith's cheeks blazed red once more. "Thanks."

   Another silence. Lance hesitated, not wanting to leave. He could see why Keith loved it here; the chaos from the city streets were muffled out by the glass and the music, as though you were a whole universe away from the chaos of the world. 

   "I'll see you later," Lance eventually mumbled. Keith waved with a small smile.

 

-

 

   Lance drove in silence, flicking the ash gathering at the end of his cigarette out the window. He didn't usually smoke in his car, but he was so stressed, and it was far better than the alternative that was pestering his mind like a nagging child. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to pull over and tug out the packet he knew was in his glovebox, hidden inside one of his old leather gloves.

   He'd originally tried blaring out his music, but it scraped against his nerves and made him feel worse, so he ended up turning it off and just let the hum of the engine fill the silence.

   Marco had sent him at least two messages within the past couple of hours, subtly (or his attempt to be subtle at least) reminding him about coming over by asking him to get certain drinks from the shops to bring round. Lance had left those messages unread, fearful that if he tried, his card would be declined. 

   He'd also said that Veronica had finally agreed to come, which made Lance's stomach twist into even tighter knots, knowing that it was going to end in tears in some way or another.

   He pulled into his father's driveway, noticing that everyone else's cars were already parked. He was the last to turn up. His worn trainers felt as though they were lined with lead as he walked to the front door, and he found himself longing to be back in the quaint little guitar shop with Keith, singing the night away together and playing their guitars. 

   Instead he was here, Sophia flinging open the door with a shriek of his name and knocking Lance onto his ass with a suffocating hug. 

   He patted her back awkwardly, trying to stand up with her leeching off of him. Despite being a year older she was a lot shorter, taking Mama's genes of being tiny (or, fun sized, as her and Mama used to defend).

   Eventually she let go, her nose wrinkling in disgust. Lance shuffled awkwardly, rubbing his arm. 

   "I thought you said you gave up smoking?" She asked, leading him inside. Lance shrugged. He couldn't bring himself to tell her that it was one of the (many) lies that he had told his family.

   "Stressful week," he muttered, though Sophia didn't seem to hear him.

   His Papa's dog burst round the corner, his yips muffled around the wooden spoon he was holding.  Marco followed suite.

   "Get back here!" Marco tore past Lance and Sophia, calling out a greeting to Lance as he raced up the stairs.

   Sophia burst into laughter. Lance couldn't help but laugh a little too, following her into the lounge where his father sat on one side of the couch, Veronica on the other, the gap between them only a meter at most, but it felt like they were miles apart.

   "Lance!" His Papa got to his feet and pulled Lance into a firm hug, hitting him on the back a few times. Lance winces at the force, but manages a smile. 

   "Hey, Papa, happy father's day," he handed his papa the present he'd bought before visiting Keith at the shop. He looked surprised to be receiving something and smiled. 

   "Thanks, kid," he ruffled Lance's hair. 

   "Sophia! The rice!" Came a muffled shout from upstairs. Sophia darted out into the kitchen, leaving Lance with the tension between Veronica and his father.

   Lance felt his hands begin to shake as he took the seat opposite. He wanted another cigarette,  _needed_ something  _more,_ but he couldn't. Not here, in front of his family. 

   Instead, he took a seat, accepted the can of beer his father had given him, and hoped that they didn't ask too many questions. After a long while of heavy, awkward silence, sipping at his drink and wishing he was a lightweight, Veronica mumbled something about giving Sophia a hand and left. 

   Lance was close to breaking, and just as he was about to make an excuse of leaving something in his car so he could sneak another cigarette outside, his phone chimed. It was a text, from Keith.

    _ **Mullet:** okay, you're a dumbass._

_**Lance:** fuck you_

_Why am I a dumbass now?_

_**Mullet:** I was just cleaning the floor of the shop and I see this jacket left on the counter._

Lance's heart pounded, frantically trying to remember if he left anything in the pocket. He shouldn't have done - it should be hidden in his car, but he couldn't help thinking that maybe he'd accidentally left it there instead. Crap, if he did, not only could Keith find out, but he wouldn't have anything to tide him over later tonight, when things would inevitably crash and burn. 

     _ **Mullet:** And I'm like, damn, what an ugly jacket. No wonder they just dumped it here - I'd better check the pockets to see which dumbass with an awful taste in fashion has left his clothes here._

_Anyway, to cut a long story short I have gained $10 and I'm gonna drop your jacket off round yours tomorrow hopefully. Moral of the story don't leave your ugly jacket in my shop._

Lance knew that Keith knew nothing of Lance's financial situation, but  _fuck_ did he want to punch Keith in the face for that. He'd be fine if he hadn't have had to have gotten his father a gift, but now that $10 was Lance's only meal tomorrow before payday.

    _ **Lance:** hey Keef that's mean. What if that was my last $10 :(((_

_**Mullet:** call it delivery fees >:)_

_**Lance:** delivery fees? You're probably gonna make me fucking come and get it from you._

_**Mullet:**..._

"Who're you texting, Lance?" Papa asked, scratching at his stubbled chin. Lance mainly took after his Mama's looks, but he'd inherited his eyes from his Papa. Before they'd filed their divorce, his Mama would describe both of their eyes like home. Her family had come from the coast, and every morning she would wake to the view of the ocean, the rippling tide and the clear summer skies above. Now, Lance felt as though his eyes were more like the washed-out pebbles digging into the heels of people walking on the shore.

   "Just a friend," was all Lance said.

   "Oh, you mean, uh," Papa's greying brow creased together. Lance's jaw clenched. "You know, the one who used to come round and always brought brownies to say thank you for having him - sweet guy. You're both still friends, right? He was a good influence on you."

   Lance was sure  _good influnces_ was something his father most certainly lost the right ot make judgement on. "His name's  _Hunk_ , but no, not him."

   "You're not back being friends with that punk again, are you?"

   Lance shuddered.  _"No,_ he's a new friend."

   "Oh, are you messaging Keith?" Marco sat down on the arm of Lance's chair, giving Lance a smirk with a raised eyebrow.

   "Yeah, Keith," Lance muttered through grit teeth.

   Before his father could interrogate him further, Sophia called that dinner was ready. Marco nudged Lance and yelled 'race you!', promptly running into the kitchen. Lance lifted himself to his feet and walked to the dining room, remembering all the times as kids how he and Marco would race down to the dinner table, and whoever got there last would have to grab the knives and forks for Mama.

   Veronica was pouring out glasses of water, face still set with a hardened expression, whilst Sophia began to spoon out portions for them all. Lance took a seat next to Marco, his father sitting at the head of the table, as usual. 

   Veronica was unusually silent through dinner, though Lance was surprised she was even present at all. Marco tried his best to keep the conversations between the torn family lively, though when three quarters of the table didn't respond with the same enthusiasm, it was inevitable that the conversation died down.

   "So, Lance," Papa began, and Lance could feel his chest clench as he played with his food. "What are you doing with your life right now? It's been a while since we last spoke."

   "I'm, uh, going on tour soon, with a band Veronica's managing," Lance replied. "We played a sold out gig a few weeks ago."

   His father let out a sigh, and Lance lowered his head, knowing what was coming. He'd at least thought his father would be proud of him playing a sold out show, but it seems not.

   "What about your  _real job_ , Lance?"

   "The bookshop's doing okay," Lance muttered through grit teeth, barely heard over Veronica snapping:

   "It  _is_ a real job."

    Their father set his knife and fork down on the sides of his plate, folding his arms. "And how much money do you make from his band, Lance?" He asked, not giving Veronica even a glance in her direction. 

   "I, uh," Lance hesitated, because truth was, he made  _nothing_. What they sold in tickets and merch usually just paid for the petrol to get there, and anything that was left over went straight into the band's account to fund the next tour or their next E.P.

    " _Exactly_. You should really try and go into management, or marketing, or  _something._ " His father sighed. "Maybe one day you'll listen."

   Lance thought his father couldn't say anything worse, until after a moment of awkward silence, he decided to bring up: "Oh, I saw Nyma the other day. It's such a shame you broke up with her. She looks like she's doing well for herself-"

   Lance stood from the table, his chair pushing back with a horrifying screech. "I'm sorry but I've just remembered that I've left my jacket back at Keith's shop and it has my wallet in it. Happy father's day, Papa. I'll see you guys later, I guess."

   Marco tries to run after Lance, but he's too quick, quietly seething as he slams his car door and drives quickly away from the house. He pulls over not so far away, when he's certain that Marco isn't going to follow him. With shaking hands he fumbles for his cigarettes, lighting one and inhaling deeply. He threw it out after a couple of drags, tugging open his glovebox.

    _Fuck it._

   

-

 

    Lance drives around town aimlessly. The streets before him were bare, people already where they belonged for the evening. Streetlights flashed past and reflected off of the beginning dribbles of rain on his windscreen, distorting the city around him. 

   He considered calling Hunk, only to shoot the idea down immediately after. Hunk was spending time with his own family, and Lance couldn't ruin his night too. Pidge and Allura were spending time with their families too, so they were crossed off the list. 

As he turns the next corner, he spots Keith and Shiro’s guitar shop, still open, like a small beacon of light down the darkened street. Lance barely remembers pulling up outside, getting out his car and stepping over to the door.

The bell chimes and Keith startles, hand reaching immediately for the guitar lying on the counter. He looks to Lance, blinking. “L-Lance?” He stutters, frowning. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your family?” Lance flinched.

He looks Lance up and down, his lips forming a thin line. “Come on. I’ll close up. We’re going for a drive.” Keith placed the guitar back on its stand, grabbing the keys from the counter and slinging his jacket over his shoulders. “Here,” he threw Lance his jacket, that was neatly folded on the counter underneath Keith’s keys.

“Thanks,” Lance places his hands in his pockets awkwardly after putting it on, feeling the $10 bill was still inside.

 

-

 

Keith rolls down his window as they drive (in Lance’s opinion, quite aimlessly) through the near abandoned streets. The gentle cooling breeze filled the car, soothing Lance and blowing away the heated thoughts clouding his mind.

It was late, and they’d been driving for a good 20 minutes with only the onyx sky and the glare from the street lamps passing by to keep them company.

Lance had, at first, left his car silent again, and just when the echoes of what had happened that day grew too loud, Keith had plugged his own phone into the aux, letting distorted guitars and rough vocals filter through the car. Lance appreciated the gesture, whether Keith knew truly how much Lance needed it or not.

The fact that Keith hadn’t uttered a word in question as to what had happened had made Lance appreciate him even more. He was glad he’d approached Keith.

In fact, Keith didn’t speak at all, save from the quiet directions of ‘left’ or ‘right’ or ‘second exit’, he simply left Lance to process what had happened. Lance was thankful for that; there was a lot to think through.

The road became more unkempt, growing thinner and rockier as twigs brushed against Lance’s car. Where was Keith taking him?

“Is this the right road?” Lance questioned as the road seemed to slope up into a hill and become even thinner.

“Yeah. Keep going,” Keith mumbled. Lance did as Keith said, blindly trusting him as they seemed to drive into wilderness, into completely unknown territory for Lance. He hadn’t even known this road existed, and to no surprise - there was nothing here, just miles upon miles of trees.

Just as he’s about to question again if Keith is _sure_ that he knows where they are going, the trees fall away to a clearing. Before them is a small, empty gravel car park. 

Lance parks up and barely remembers to kill the engine - before them is the glowing city they both call home, each house glowing like a cluster of stars, all signalling different people and families, all with lives so different from Lance and Keith.

That was nothing, however, compared to the sky above. It was as though the city was simply a lake reflecting the dulled version of the beautiful sight above. Millions of stars shone above their heads and filled Lance with warm memories of when he was a young child, before his family had shattered. Of how he would lay in bed and count the little glow-in-the-dark stars carefully stuck to his ceiling, lulling himself to sleep. 

Somehow, Keith wasn’t watching the beautiful scene before them both. He was watching Lance, a soft smile tugging at his lips. 

“Come on. The view’s better outside.” Keith got out the car without hesitation. Lance followed suite, walking with him right to the very edge. Keith leant against the flimsy fence to gaze below, teetering on his tiptoes, while Lance stayed a respectable distance from the edge. Eventually, Keith slipped his hand into Lance's, giving it a squeeze and flashing him a small smile.

“Adam used to take me here when I was having a hard time with settling in,” Keith explained, unprompted, looking back at the city below. “He said I was so angry with the world - he wasn’t wrong.” He chuckled. “He used to take me for a ride on his bike when Shiro was out - he always hated us riding - and we’d end up here.” Keith smiled at Lance. “He’d tell me to take my anger and let it out where only the wind and the stars can hear my pain. To scream, to yell, to cry - all here, where no one can judge me.”

Before Lance could find the words to respond, Keith took a deep breath and yelled so loud his cheeks tinted pink and his voice cracked.

Lance blinked when Keith stopped and turned to say, voice now rasped, “your turn.”

“What?!”

“Scream.” Keith shrugged. “It seems weird, but it’ll make you feel better, I promise. Just _do_ what you _feel._ ”

And so, after a moment of staring at Keith and realising he was _serious_ , Lance concentrated on what he felt, all the anger, hurt and frustration built up over the years, and screamed.

There was something wild to it, the two stood atop of that cliff, cradled in the hands of nature as the wind battered their faces and the droplets of rain dampened their hair, their frustrations at the world floating with the wind and the stars.

They screamed and yelled until their throats were hoarse and ached, and Lance felt tears running down his cheeks and dripping off his jaw. He wiped his eyes and noticed Keith was the same, with a wild glint in his eye Lance had never seen before.

Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t yet caught his breath from the screaming, or maybe it was the wind choking his throat, but the sight of Keith, ragged hair, sparkling eyes and luminescent skin, looking at the world with such raw passion and fire, made Lance forget how to breathe.

And as he came to the realisation that he was teetering over the edge of the very same cliff he’d stumbled off years ago when he’d met Nyma, he could only close his eyes and hope that the inevitable crash to the ground wouldn’t be as painful as the last. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn't fall. Not again. Not after he'd only just managed to dig himself out of the six-foot hole Nyma had buried him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vivid description of drug use in the first paragraph. Skip it if you don't wanna read. For the rest of the chapter it's a bit more vague, though there's still mentions of drugs/being high. Pls be careful my dudes <3
> 
> On a lighter note I hope you enjoy this super long chapter!! I got a little carried away, oops (hence why it's a little late - it was a bitch to edit, haha)

    _Your life is perfect. Stop being ungrateful._

Those words repeat in his head like a mantra as he used his maxed-out credit card to push the powder on his coffee table into a neat line, using an old receipt to roll into a tight tube. With shaking hands, he took the hit, and leant back, rubbing his hands over his face. His cheeks were sticky and his cold breath billowed out into a shaky sigh in a feeble attempt to let out the darkened thoughts clouding his mind. He hoped it wouldn't take long to kick in. 

   It had been a few days since the hilltop scene with Keith. After they'd screamed their throats raw and sat on the cliff for so long that the sun had risen and birds had began to sing, Lance had driven Keith home, and spent the rest of the night driving aimlessly around town until his shift started, knowing sleep would be impossible. Since then, he'd rung up ill to work for the rest of the week, and most likely missed the weekly meet up with Hunk and Pidge. His phone was clogged with messages from Hunk, Pidge, his Mama, and even Marco and Allura. At some point someone had knocked on his door, though Lance couldn't say whether they were checking on his wellbeing or had tried to make a delivery. 

   Even Keith had called a couple of times, but like everyone else, even his attempts at contacting him had ceased after a few days.

    _Keith._ Keith was the cause for the state Lance had found himself in. He was the  _cause_ , yes, but Lance couldn't find it within himself to hold him to blame. Lance shouldn't have gone to Keith for help that night, at least then, these...memories,  _feelings_ wouldn't have resurfaced. Memories of putting all his heart into  _two_ people, just for it to be stomped on, torn to shreds and handed back to him a ghost of what it used to be. He couldn't go through that again, not after Nyma, not after his parents, after every relationship he'd known resulted in shattered glass and broken hearts.

   Lance had come to that decision, after coming home from staying round his Aunt's for New Years Eve, the dawn of a new year and new beginnings fresh in the air, to an empty house, only his mother with trembling hands and too-tight hugs there to greet him, that love just  _didn't exist._ How could love exist, if all it did was break and shatter at the slightest strain?

    He couldn't fall. Not  _again._ Not after he'd only just managed to dig himself out of the six-foot hole Nyma had buried him in.

   The nausea swirling in his stomach fell to numbness, and Lance felt sparks of energy pulse through him. He got to his feet, hand running through his slick hair with a grimace. He would  _never_ let himself get into this state; hygiene was always one of his top priorities, and yet he just couldn't bring himself to fix it. Part of him felt that it was fitting, to feel so dirty and disgusting, when he so clearly deserved it.

   He didn't bother to change, merely slipped his trainers onto his feet, giving up on the laces after struggling to do them up, passing through and out of his apartment, stumbling a few times. he wasn't sure where he was going, just that he had to  _go_. Being in such a small flat for so long was suffocating him, and he finally had the guts to actually leave, for the first time in a week. 

   He finds himself in front of Hunk's door, blinking, not really knowing how he'd gotten there, but thankful he'd ended up taking himself here all the same. 

   Lance couldn't remember if he'd knocked on the door or not. Regardless, Hunk swung it open with a wide smile. "Lance! I haven't seen you in  _ages_!" He immediately begins to walk inside, Lance following, the smell of baking filling the air. One of Hunk's mum's pokes her head round the door to the kitchen, giving Lance a wave and a bright smile complimented with a 'hey, Lance!', before a timer went off and she disappeared again. 

   Hunk takes Lance upstairs to his room, which hadn't changed, not since Lance used to visit for sleep-overs way back in middle school. The stuffed animals that used to line his bed and spur many of their childhood games (a constant battle between playing 'vets' and 'war') now sit atop of his wardrobe. Little knick-knacks from holidays, some Hunk bought himself, some Lance had gifted him, and others from family members, lined his windowsill, and his walls were dotted with posters of cars and bands, and a few photographs him and Lance had taken over the years.

   Outside, Lance could see the tire swing was still in the backyard. He remembered the days he and Hunk would play out in the garden, making laser-gun noises whilst Hunk would follow, a little less enthusiastically. He preferred to be a pacifist, though, even he couldn't resist the excitement of pretending to be a space-ninja. 

   The memory that is most prominent, however, is all the times that Lance had invited himself round to stay for the night, and had sat in this room, trying to keep himself together during the collapse of his parent's relationship, as Hunk fed him freshly-baked cookies and let him cuddle his lion toy whilst they played video games late into the night. It was the only time either of Hunk's mothers had ever let them stay up late. 

   Hunk takes a seat on his bed, tapping the space besides him when he realised that Lance wasn't going to invite himself to sit down. After a moment, Lance took a seat next to him, blinking heavily to try and clear his slightly blurred vision. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest, so loud he was worried Hunk could hear it. Why was he even here? What if Hunk noticed something was wrong? What if he guessed that Lance was high? It was  _so_ obvious, what was he thinking? Why did he come here-

   "So, how's your song going?" Hunk's soft voice managed to cut through Lance's spiralling thoughts. He jolted a little, before turning to his friend. Though a niggling voice in the back of his mind - the voice of reason, hopefully - told him that Hunk was none the wiser, he couldn't help but feel that Hunk's gaze was actually a glare, that he was scrutinising Lance.

   "Fine!" Lance almost squeaked, flinching at how it came out.  _Fuck_ , he's been here five minutes and he's already fucking everything up. 

   Hunk smiled a little, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, only tearing Lance's nerves apart further.

   "Okay. Wanna talk me through the bass parts? Or haven't you got that far yet?"

   Lance had played his guitar in this state many times before, sometimes during shows. He could handle that, but there was one problem.

   "I haven't got my guitar."

   "Dude, you know you can borrow mine whenever you want." Hunk left the bed to grab his guitar case, pulling it out and handing it to Lance. He plugged his bass into its amp and turned the volume down low so the acoustic could be heard and sat back down. He looked to Lance for a second, biting his lip, before shaking his head. "So, what's the first chord?"

 

-

 

   The gentle hum of guitar and bass filtered through the room, the open window pulling in a gentle breeze. Lance managed to relax, even singing a few of the lyrics under his breath as the two formulated a structure for the song. 

   Just as they had something written that they were happy sharing with the girls, a knock sounded at Hunk's door. His mother stepped inside, giving Lance a warm smile. "Lance, it's so lovely to see you again!" With that, Lance was being scooped up into a bear hug that was identical to the ones Hunk usually gave. She soon pulled away. "Would you like to stay for lunch? I made strawberry shortcake this morning. I know it's your favourite!"

   "Actually," Lance smiled a little to hide his internal panic, because there was no way he was going to sit around a table with Hunk's  _perfect_ family after his father's day disaster. "I've got to, uh, meet up with Keith," he lied. "He's uh, he needs to be taken up to the hospital to see Shiro."

   Hunk frowned, but nodded. "Well, it was good to see you, buddy. Also, stay away from Pidge. She's going to kill you for missing out on our weekly lunch date."

   "I'm sure she will," Lance sighed, placing Hunk's guitar back onto its stand.

 

-

 

   Lance walks down the street, the rain soaking his hair and his clothes, his jeans sticking to his legs uncomfortably. He hated the rain, and hates himself even more for not thinking to bring a coat, or even a  _jacket_ with him.

   As he continues to walk, trying to figure out where he should go, he notices someone walking hurriedly towards him. Their raspy, distinctive voice filtered through the pattering sounds of rain, and Lance found himself faltering upon realisation as to who it was. 

   Keith.

   He made his way towards him, so submerged in a phone conversation that he hadn't even spotted Lance yet. He was dwarfed by his raincoat, which Lance was pretty sure was a couple of sizes too big for him. He had to keep one hand on his hood and hold it up out of his eyes, while the other was holding his phone to his ear as he grumbled.

   "Don't even take Curtis's side on this one, James! I look ridiculous, I just hope I don't see anyone I know before I get to the-fuck!" Lance takes to long to process that Keith is, unknowingly, coming right his way, right until he knocks straight into Lance. 

   Thankfully Lance has enough time to grab Keith to stop him from falling. 

   Keith looks up to see Lance and freezes. There's something unreadable that flashes over Keith's face as he looks Lance up and down, still in his arms, before he blurts: "you're wet."

   "Understatement of the year," Lance mutters, letting go of Keith and wrapping his arms around himself, trying to stop his heart from hammering its way out of his chest.

   There's a muffled voice from Keith's phone. "No, not you! Lance! Ew, that's -  _James_!" Keith flushes red. "That's it, I'm hanging up now. Fuck you."

   Keith takes a moment, fiddling with the too-long sleeves of his coat, taking a deep breath. "You're coming to the shop with me so you can get some dry clothes." He grabs Lance's hand and pulls him forward.

   Lance panics at how Keith was  _holding his hand_ like it was  _nothing._

   Instead of tugging away and turning heel like he knew he should, he dumbly followed Keith through the streets, right to the guitar shop. Keith fumbles to unlock it with slightly shaking hands, before kicking the door open. He flicks on the lights, grabbing Lance's hand again. He tugged him through to the staff room in the back. 

   Inside was a couple of worn out couches, and a simple little counter and small fridge. There were a couple of pegs for coats, too, which Keith immediately used for his too-large raincoat. Lance guessed everyone here knew each other well enough to trust their bags to just sit on the bench under the coat rail, instead of having their own lockers. 

   Keith throws his bag down next to a more dustier looking sports-bag, and hangs up his raincoat. He then rummages in the sports bag, which Lance noticed had a few items of clothing in it, deodorant, and some medication. "Shiro has this little emergency bag that stays in the store, in case a member of staff has a headache, or forgot to bring something. He also has these," he hands Lance a pair of black jeans, "for me, if I come into work with ripped jeans. I don't know if they'll fit, but give them a try."

   "O-Okay."

   "We sell a few band t-shirts too. I'll find one for you to wear," Keith muttered, disappearing out of the room before Lance could reply. 

   Lance really tried his best to fit in the jeans, but the jeans Keith usually wore were  _so tight_ , even on him, that Lance could barely get them past his thighs. He sighs, and gets back into his own jeans, grimacing at how wet they were. He took off his shirt so at least his top-half wasn't covered in uncomfortably wet fabric anymore.

   Keith comes back and almost trips over his own feet, flushing a deep red. "Uh, here!" He throws Lance a t-shirt, dashing back out of the room. 

   The cotton was itchy and made out of cheap fabric, like most band t-shirts, but it was a lot better than the soggy lump on the floor that was his own shirt. As soon as he put it on, he passed back into the main shop, where Keith was putting a tray of money back into the till. 

   "I feel like I'm having another emo phase," Lance mutters, tugging at the corner of the black t-shirt. Keith laughs a little. 

   "You grew out of yours?" He humoured, closing the till back up and fiddling with his phone. A few moments later, the usual music that so often blared into the shop came back on. 

   "Yeah, people usually do grow out of it," Lance leant against the counter with a smirk. "Obviously you didn't catch the memo."

   Keith laughed, turning up the music a little. "Clearly not."

   Lance stands awkwardly for a while, watching Keith flitter about, unlocking doors and bringing out a box of drumsticks, starting to restock the little cubby holes containing various sizes and brands. 

   "I asked Matt to lock up  _once_ and he doesn't restock  _anything_ ," Keith mutters under his breath. 

   A couple of customers come in while Keith works and Lance awkwardly reads the posters tacked up on the walls. The girl has a tight hold on her father's hand as she tugs him to the guitars, jumping up and down adn pointing to the back V guitars. Lance smiles a little and watches them.

   Eventually, the father walks over to Lance, looking a little lost as he scratches the back of his neck. "Hey, uh, have you got any beginner guitars? For kids?"

   Keith is instantly on his feet and stepping over, saving Lance the embarrassment of explaining he doesn't work here. "We've got a few. I'll show you. Lance, could you finish putting those sticks away for me, please?" He gave Lance a pleading look.

   Lance found himself nodding, watching Keith lead the father away, noticing how when Keith was explaining the guitars he was making hand gestures at the same time. Lance smiled fondly, before catching himself, and quickly approached the drumstick shelves, rooting through the box to find the right sizes. 

   As he's working, he notices Keith sitting down on the drum stool next to the girl with a larger version of the guitar she's holding, helping her get the right position of her hands to strike some simple chords. Lance watches in awe as he so softly and patiently explains to her how to position her fingers, and even how to hold the guitar pick properly.

   The sight made Lance smile and warmth flutter through his chest. In no time the girl is playing a simple, albeit jagged, two chord sequence, which makes her break into a beaming smile and jump up and down in her seat excitedly. She babbled away to her father about what she'd learnt, giving a couple of demonstrations, and her father nodded and smiled as though he hadn't just watched Keith teach her.

   Needless to say, they buy the guitar, the girl jumping up and down with a pink guitar case on her back, as Keith gives the father a business card for a guitar teacher that did a free first lesson for their customers, before telling him he's happy to help teach them how to restring the guitar if they bring it in the next time they buy new strings, promptly followed by explaining when they can tell they need restringing.

   Lance watches with a fond smile as Keith manages to also sell a last-minute clip on tuner, before giving the girl a hi-five and waving them goodbye. 

   It's then when Lance realises he's spent the whole time watching Keith instead of putting the drum sticks away. Keith starts stepping over, and Lance sheepishly smiles.

   "You don't have to do it, y'know. I just thought I'd ask because you looked bored. I know it's a bit of a shit job - probably why Matt didn't do it." Keith chuckled, beginning to help Lance out.

   "No, no, it's fine! I don't mind helping until the rain eases off." Lance shrugs, resuming his work. "Who's the guitar teacher?"

   "James," Keith smiled. "It's his little side-job on top of college. He finds it easier to handle than doing actual hours at a shop and he really enjoys it. He's a pretty good teacher, too."

   "Has he given you a few lessons or something?" Lance teased with a nudge. Keith laughed.

   "No, I'm kinda self taught?"

   "Kinda?" 

“Back when I was in care I used to sneak out after school to my local music store and play with the display guitars. The owner was probably worried for the sake of the guitar’s strings - I’m surprised I didn’t break any - so he sat down with me one day when the shop was dead and taught me how to play a few chords. Every day after school he gave me a short lesson on how to play. Right up until I got fostered for the first time.”

“Cute. Was that Shiro’s family?”

“No. I uh, I was passed between families a lot until I got to Shiro’s family.” Keith tensed up a little, so Lance took that as a queue to change the subject.

“I used to get lessons. I mean, I really wanted to be in a band and all, but at first I was convinced I could teach myself. It wasn’t until Hunk started getting lessons and was able to ditch maths that I got lessons, just because it meant I got to ditch maths too.”

Keith laughed at that. “Man, if I wanted to ditch maths I just used to do it.”

“Wow, what a rebel,” Lance raised both hands and laughed. “How did you even make it through school?”

“James. He was a teachers pet and forced me to study with him all the time. The teachers were worried I’d be a bad influence on him, I mean his first time he ever got into trouble was when we had a fight, but he ended up being a good influence on me. I mean, okay, I kinda _was_ a bad influence, but we evened each other out.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Lance chuckled, shaking his head, placing the last pair of sticks into their place. Keith gets to his feet, taking a little look around the shop with a sigh. 

“Looks like it’s another dead Monday morning,” he sighed, taking the empty box out to the back, before returning. “You can have a play on some of the guitars if you like. I still have some rotas to sort out for the next few weeks.”

Lance doesn’t need telling twice. He immediately marvels the display of various guitars whilst Keith takes to the counter, pulling out some sheets of paper and a pen. 

    The soft sound of guitar filtered through the shop, and before Lance knew it, Keith was turning off the stores music to listen. He played the song that he and Hunk had rehearsed earlier, and by the time he'd finished, Keith gave him a small smile and a small round of applause. 

   "That sounds amazing. Is it a new song?"

   "Yeah. Thanks." Lance mumbled, still plucking away at the strings. "Hunk and I are trying to get the song down. I can't help but feel that there's something missing."

   "Can I suggest something, if you don't mind?" Keith asked, slipping off from the counter.

   Lance shrugged. "Sure."

   Keith grabbed the guitar and sat down next to Lance, tuning the guitar by ear, somehow. He began to experiment with some chords. "Maybe add in a bridge? It might be better than an instrumental, unless you're thinking of a guitar solo?" He wondered. "I mean, not that it doesn't sound great already. You know what? Ignore me, it's your song, not mine-"

   "Hey, no, it's fine! Don't worry, Keith. What were you thinking?" Lance asked. Keith hummed for a second, before playing a short chord sequence. "Something like that? With lyrics."

   Lance thought back to some lyrics he'd written the other day in the back of his notebook, unsure of what to do with them at the time. He sings them over Keith's gentle strumming.

   "What are the next chords?" Keith asked as Lance finished. Lance recites the four different chords. 

   "Keep repeating it."

   Keith did just that, and Lance sung the final chorus. On repeat, Keith improvised a little, and Lance found himself really liking what he'd come up with.

   Once they'd finished, Lance smiled. Keith smiled back shyly.

   For a second, they remained in silence, Lance feeling Keith's cool breath on his face from how close they were. 

   The bell on the door chimed and they both shot almost ten feet apart. In strolled Matt, head down as he typed something on his phone.

   "Hey, loser," Matt muttered as he walked past the counter, before stopping and realising Keith wasn't there. He gradually turned to where Keith and Lance sat, both flushed red like rabbits caught in headlights. 

   "Oh, hi Lance." He lowered his head back to his phone. "Keith, Shiro told me to tell you that I've gotta close up again and I can't go home before you anymore if I start after you. Just thought I'd let you know."

   "You visited Shiro?" Keith managed.

   " _Duh_. He's fine, before you ask. Although I'm sure you know that because you're there  _all the time._ " Before Keith could defend himself, Matt passed into the staff room, the door clicking shut behind him.

   "I'd better put these away," Keith sighs, grabbing Lance's guitar and walking over to the wall where the rest are hanging. He tries to reach on his tiptoes to put the guitar back, unable to quite reach. Lance comes up behind him and lifts it, placing it back for him. It isn't until his shoulder brushes against the back of Keith's head that he realises how close they are, and darts back as though burnt. Keith's cheeks are tinted red as he fiddles with his sleeves.

   "Thanks."

“It’s no problem, short-ass,” Lance hopes Keith doesn’t notice his own flushed cheeks and quickly ruffles Keith’s hair. 

Keith rushes to the till, opening it up and pulling out a couple of notes, shoving them at Lance. “Here. I’m sorry it’s not much, but, you technically were an employee today. You really helped out so, take it.”

Lance wanted to say no, he couldn’t take the money, because goddammit, Keith, he hardly did anything today! But he was pretty sure he still had Blue’s pet insurance that hadn’t come out yet, and it would be a big help if he could get that into his bank account for in case he didn’t have anything left - which he most likely didn’t.

“Today was a waste of time. Shiro doesn’t like being closed on a monday, though. He says it’s a good time to get on with cleaning and stuff. Like that’s gonna happen with Matt on his own, though,” he rolled his eyes. “Not that I did any better today, I guess.” He guided Lance outside into the cool evening air after waving goodbye to Matt, who had taken to playing a game on his phone behind the counter. Matt gave Keith a salute in reply. 

“Uh, Curtis is working late tonight,” he mumbled, pushing his hands into the pockets of his over-sized raincoat. “Do you want to come round mine for dinner? I mean, you don’t have to or anything I just, uh, thought I’d ask because-“

Lance was about to refuse, because spending the day with Keith had brought up so many conflicting emotions, but he soon realised that he had no food in the house, and apart from what Keith had just given him, he had hardly any money to his name until next payday. He could really do with a decent meal, and so he agreed.

The look of pure joy on Keith’s face as he agreed made him realise he’d made the right decision, too.

 

-

 

_A decent meal,_ Lance thought, chopping up ingredients for a salad. _Definitely not something he could get out of the Shirogane household._

Keith reassured Lance he didn’t need help, that he could cook a simple ready-made lasagne, dammit! But, after watching Keith attempt to put the foil tray into the oven (that hadn’t even been _preheated,_ the fiend) with the _plastic cover_ on, Lance quickly rushed in and took over.

“Keith, you are good at many things,” Lance muttered. “You’re good at playing guitar, kinda good at singing, and _very_ good at running me out of petrol,” Keith smiled apologetically. “But cooking certainly isn’t your forte, is it?”

“Nope, you got me,” Keith sighed, sitting on the kitchen counter next to where Lance was chopping. “Adam used to always cook for us. He tried teaching me to cook. Emphasis on _tried._ ”

Lance laughed. “Poor guy. It’s a good thing I’m here, huh? You’d have ended up eating melted plastic for dinner, or like, set fire to the kitchen or something.”

“Why do they put plastic on it if you can’t cook it?” Keith muttered, folding his arms with an adorable pout. “Idiots.”

“The only idiot here is the one that thinks sitting on a counter when food is being prepped is a _good idea._ ” Lance nudged Keith’s leg. Keith made no effort to move, simply stealing a tomato and popping it into his mouth, chewing slowly with a disinterested look.

“You sound like Shiro.”

“You need to stop eating, or else you’re not gonna eat the dinner I’ve just put my heart and soul into for you.”

“Ew, it’s gonna be real bitter then.” Keith scrunched up his nose, reminding Lance very much of a small rabbit.

_Goddammit,_ Lance thought, looking away. _I should have just stayed at home._

Keith tries to sneak another tomato, but Lance slaps his hand away. “Stop!”

 

-

 

Keith wished he still lived at Lance’s flat, if anything, just for the _food._ How could one make a ready-made lasagna taste so _good_?!

He shovelled it down, being the first proper food he’d had for…a while. With Curtis not being home, and him either being at work or at the hospital, he’d not had enough time to cook for himself - not that it would go very well, anyway. All he had time for was a premed sandwich from the hospital cafe, but even then he shared it with Shiro because the man would _not_ stop complaining about the ghastly hospital food. Keith couldn’t blame him, when he had done his time there, he too hated the hospital food. 

At the time, Shiro had tried to convince him that it was just because he was not only coping with trauma and loss, but also was in a pretty grim looking ward as well. He said that the food would probably be fine if he wasn’t in such a situation. 

After stealing a mouthful of what the nurse had told Shiro was curry (which was actually a watered down, Luke-warm mess), Keith could confirm that Shirt was completely _wrong_.

He and Shiro could probably do a better job, and that was saying something.

Still, he needn’t worry about that now, with Lance and his amazing cooking. Keith was _definitely_ going to go back for seconds.

Lance simply chuckled, watching Keith wolf down the meal. “You act like you haven’t eaten for days.”

Keith paused, trying to keep his expression neutral so Lance wouldn’t suspect a thing. 

“Please tell me you’ve been remembering to eat.”

“Uh, sometimes?”

“That isn’t good enough, Mullet.” Lance narrowed his eyes. “I’m gonna have to send you reminders.”

“Or, you could just cook for me every night?” Keith let slip between mouthfuls.

“I don’t know, maybe I will,” Lance rolled his eyes. “You’re going to end up burning the apartment to the ground if you try cooking again.”

“I will not!”

“You so would,” Lance retorted. “I’ll have to teach you to cook sometime.”

“That…would actually be pretty nice. Thanks, Lance. Did your mother teach you or something?”

“Yeah, Mama used to teach us all to cook. She didn’t want us to all end up surviving off of takeout and microwave meals after we flew the nest, unlike _some_ people,” Lance dodged a slice of cucumber being flicked at him. He promptly flicked one back.

“You seem close with her,” Keith pointed out.

“Yeah,” Lance muttered, looking down at his plate. Keith frowned a little. 

“I was meaning to ask what happened the other night,” Keith mumbled, watching Lance’s expression closely. “Only if you’re comfortable talking about it, though, of course.”

“It’s fine. Just family drama, I guess.” Lance shrugged. “Thank you for that night, by the way. It, uh, it really helped.”

Keith smiled. “It’s fine. It sucks there’s family drama, though.”

“It does,” Lance let out a long sigh. “It also sucks when you try your hardest to make your parents proud, and all they can do is pick at everything you do.”

“Who cares what they think?” Keith muttered, “if you’re happy, then that’s all that matters. It’s your life at the end of the day, Lance.”

“I-I know I just…” Lance sighed. “I really want them to be proud, y’know?”

“I, uh, I don’t. I’m sorry,” Keith mumbled. “But I can imagine. If I knew mine better, I’d want them to be proud of me too. I guess, I really want Shiro to be proud of me.”

Lance nodded, making Keith feel a little more at ease. People didn’t usually open up to him, apart from James. Not even Shiro would talk about his problems so deeply - a part of Shiro always wanted to protect Keith, and felt like he had to sheild Keith from his problems. Keith acted the same way, which was why they both argued so much, according to James. But still, this was unknown territory. Keith had no idea how to give Lance advice, whether he should even _try_. 

“Hey, have you got anything to do tomorrow?” Lance asked. Keith shook his head. “Why don’t you come to our rehearsal? We’ve formed a rough idea of what we want our set to be. You can help see if it fits or not.”

Keith chewed his lip. “I don’t know, I’ve got the shop-“

“You’ve said before that Mondays and Tuesdays are your quietest days. I’m sure Pidge said something about Matt wanting to ask for more shifts so he can save up for a videogame?” Lance suggested. 

“Alright, you’ve got me,” Keith playfully rolled his eyes. “I’d love to watch your band. James is gonna be so jealous when I tell him you let me go to your rehearsal.”

Lance chuckled. “You could always invite him?”

“He’s working, but thanks,” Keith gave him a small smile. “And thank you for cooking dinner. Shiro’s gonna love you even more when he hears you’ve made sure I’ve eaten real food.”

Lance’s face grew into a smug grin. “Love me even more, huh? You’ve been talking about me to Shiro a lot then, Mullet?”

Keith spluttered, cheeks turning red. “N-No!” He quickly backtracked. “Only about how _annoying_ you are!”

“Well, seeing as I’m _so_ annoying, I guess I’ll just leave and you’ll have to clean up the kitchen on your own, huh?”

Keith paused. “You don’t need to help me clean up, Lance. It’s okay - not that I want you to leave!” He caught onto Lance’s growing smile. “I mean, I don’t care if you leave or stay! Nope!” With that, he gets up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, let’s go to the lounge. It’s hot in here.”

Lance chuckled a little, following Keith through into the living room. He notices the game console in the corner with a considerable amount of dust over it, and a particular game.

“Oh my _god_ , can we play?” Lance gestures to it. “I haven’t played in _ages.”_

Keith blinked, looking to where Lance is gesturing. “Sure. It’s Shiro’s, but he doesn’t mind me playing it.” Keith shrugged, going over to turn it on. “What do you want to play?”

“Mario Kart, duh, it’s like, the test of our friendship!”

“You wanna destroy it that easily when I beat you?” Keith muttered, putting the disk inside and tossing Lance a controller.

“Uh, I think you mean when _I_ beat _you_.”

“I don’t know. Shiro and I play all the time,” Keith smirked. “We’re pretty good.” His face dropped. “It usually ends up with us having a fight on the carpet, though, I hope you’re prepared for me to kick your ass on the game _and_ in real life.”

“You and Shiro…” Lance trailed off, imagining Shiro and Keith wrestling over who gets to win. “I can’t imagine that. At all.”

“Curtis refuses to play with us because fo it. Adam used to use it as a chance to beat us both while we were distracted.”

Lance shook his head. “Well, I hope you know that _I_ am the best at Mario kart, and it’ll be _me_ doing the ass-kicking, thank you very much.”

Keith laughed, sitting cross legged on the floor. “We’ll see.”

Lance dropped down next to Keith with a ‘hmph!’. “We will.”

Keith selected two players and connected Lance up, before it went onto the character screen. 

“I’m going to be Yoshi,” they both announced in unison. They both turned to each other. 

“You can’t be Yoshi, I’m _always_ Yoshi - he’s my mascot!”

“So am I! Besides, it’s _my_ game!”

“And I’m the guest! Be someone else, like his emo cousin! It makes sense!” Lance gestured frantically at the skeleton.

“That’s not anything _like_ Yoshi! It’s a turtle!”

“Please, Keith! He’s like, the best character and if you don’t let me play as him I’ll…” Lance trailed off, before throwing an accusing finger at Keith. “I’ll cry!”

Keith stared at Lance blankly, selecting Yoshi. “Then weep.”

_“KEITH!”_

With that, Lance leaped for Keith’s controller, knocking him to the ground as they wrestled each other, Lance trying to pry the plastic out of Keith’s hands so that he could change the character. Keith holds on tightly, trying to throw Lance off of him. 

Eventually, Lance manages to roll Keith onto the ground, straddling him, He lifts the controller high above his head when Keith tries to reach. 

“Ha! You really thought you could beat me?” Lance smirked triumphantly. 

Keith let his head thump on the carpet. “Ugh. _Fine._ I’ll take your controller and be the fucking princess or something.”

Lance let his guard down, about to get off, when Keith grabbed him and flipped them over. Lance let out a shriek and dropped the controller. Keith stole it back. 

Keith was about to speak, to taunt Lance back, when he realised how close their faces were. Lance’s panted breaths brushed his cheeks, and Keith was very aware of how one slight movement and their noses would be touching.

Heart hammering in his chest, he closed his eyes, leaned forward a little-

The front door kicked open, smacking against the wall with a shrill yell that echoed through the flat:

“YOUR BI-WEEKLY NANNY IS HERE, BITCH!”

Keith froze, before rolling his eyes and getting off of Lance. James strolled into the room, pausing and looking from Keith to Lance, who was still lying on the floor in a daze.

“Uh, am I interrupting anything?” James asked with a raised eyebrow and a smile that made Keith _really_ want to punch him. 

“Only Lance’s crushing defeat,” Keith muttered, a cushion hitting the back of his head.

 

“Oh, I’m sure Lance got _crushed_ alright,” James wiggled his eyebrows. 

   "That doesn't even make any sense?"

    At that moment, Lance had jumped to his feet, face burning red as he quickly squeaked: “gotta go feed Blue! Bye Keith! Bye James!” And rushed out of the flat.

Keith watched the door that Lance left through. James blinked. 

“Uh, okay then,” James started rambling about his day, but Keith couldn’t even begin to process what it was about. All he could think was _shit, he’d made a mistake._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So,” James mumbled, stuffing a forkful of pancake into his mouth. “Lance, huh?”

   Before Keith met up at the rehearsal spot (which, according to Lance's neatly handwritten note that had been pushed under the door of the shop, one day, was actually Allura's house), he had decided to meet up with James. Given all that happened, apart from his 'bi-weekly nanny visits', where he'd make sure Keith ate properly and actually  _slept_ , they never really had the time to meet up. Keith felt bad he hadn't prioritised time in his overloaded schedule to actually go out with James somewhere, or even just visit him, but James had reassured him it was fine.

   "You have way too much on your mind right now," James smiled as he lead Keith into one of their favourite cafe's in the area for breakfast. "Although I  _will_ still cry to guilt trip you into buying breakfast for me."

   No tears were shed, yet Keith still paid for both of their food. It was the least he could do for him. 

   "So," James mumbled, scooping up as much pancake onto his fork as possible, and then some more. "Lance, huh?"

   Keith felt a moment of deja-vu as he frowned and muttered: "what about Lance?"

   "Well, you spend a  _lot_ of time with him now, and you've not known each other that long," James pointed out. A mischievous glint that Keith absolutely  _despised_ appeared in his eyes. "And don't even say that you owe him for the time he let you stay round his, you already gave him a gift - an  _expensive_ gift - and thanked him, like, a million times. So, what's the deal with  _Lance_?"

   The way he said the fellow singers name was as sickly sweet as the syrup he'd drenched his pancakes in, his hands forming a little heart. Keith knew he couldn't lie to James, but that didn't stop him from lying.

   "We're just friends, James. That's the deal with 'Lance'." He hid his face behind the coffee mug.

   "I don't feel threatened on the best-friend position, though," James mumbled. "Oh, and Keith, you're blushing, so I take it you're bullshitting me. Again! You know this doesn't work."

    Keith sighed, trying to block out James's whines about the evidence he'd gathered that Keith fancied Lance, ranging from logical reasons like they spent a lot of time together, to something as ridiculous as their star signs align or whatever - wait, how did he even  _get_ Lance's star sign?!

   "Alright!" Keith snapped, stopping James from rambling about how he took a buzzfeed quiz from their perspectives and it said that they would one day get married in Tokyo. "I may have the tiniest,  _smallest_ crush on Lance, okay? Are you happy?!" Keith hissed. "And why the  _fuck_ have you been taking all these quizzes, Griffin?!"

   "Oh shit, the Griffin is coming out," James whispered dramatically. "Also, I'll have you know those quizzes were very,  _very_ important research!"

   Keith leant back in his seat with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You're insufferable."

   "You love me!"

   "That's debatable."

   James gasped, clutching onto his chest as though he'd been shot. "Oh, so now you've got Lance on the horizon, you're gonna forget about me? I am  _hurt_ Keith!"

   "I could never forget about you, James," Keith replied sweetly, leaning his chin on his hands. James narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "You've scarred me for life."

   James quite literally  _screeched_ at Keith's words, and Keith found himself picking pancake and syrup out of his hair.

 

-

 

   James had offerd to give Keith a lift to Allura's house, though Keith knew he mainly offered because he wanted to see her mansion. He'd tried convincing Keith to let him sneak inside, but Keith wasn't too sure how that'd go, and he knew James had exams to study for, so he refused. He said he'd try to convince Lance to invite them both round if James got out of his exams alive. What followed was a dramatic spiel of James saying he could never survive the exams and that it was his dying wish to see inside the mansion.

   Keith simply muttered 'then perish' and stole the rest of his coffee.

   As they were driving, the air-con thrumming between them and attempting to push air into the stuffy car, Keith noticed the crumpled photo discarded in the footwell. It was a family photo taken when James was young. He always kept it in his wallet, no matter how awful his father was to him, if only just to remember that at one point, they  _did_ love him.

   "Hey, James," Keith asked carefully, easing the creases out of the photo carefully, thumb tracing over the small James, smiling widely with his father's hand clapped on his shoulder. "How's your father?"

   James's grip tightened on the steering wheel, and his gentle smile ceased. "He doesn't have that long left," he mumbled. Keith reached over to place a hand on James's knee. He said no words, knowing James would hate it, simply giving it a squeeze.

   "Remember, Shiro said our apartment's your second home, okay?" Is all he said. James nodded with a small, shaky smile.

   "Let's talk about something else," James quickly decided, turning a corner. "Like a certain Lance McClain?"

   Keith sighed, but let James ask him countless questions. Anything to help distract him from his father.

   "So, are you going to ask him out?"

   "No?"

   "Boring!" James huffed. "You've gotta ask him out!" 

   "Whoa, James, we've hardly known each other that long!"

   "So? Just ask him out, Keith!

   "Are you going to ask Nadia out?" Keith retorted. James opened his mouth, then closed it again.

   "That-That's different!" His cheeks tinted red.

   Keith smiled, folding his arms. "How?"

   "Because if she's not interested then it's gonna be so awkward! She's in our band!"

   "If he rejects me it'll be awkward for us, too! We're going  _on tour_ together! I'm fine just...just admiring from afar. It's not going to amount to anything, he already knows how high-maintenance I am," Keith muttered.

   "If the guy's afraid of a bit of effort then he's clearly not right for you," James sighed. "And is a massive douche. But I don't think Lance is like that! From what I've seen, he at least  _likes_ you. I mean, not many people would let a stranger stay round their house, or cart them to hospital and back every day so they can see their brother."

   "I guess," Keith muttered. "I think he just felt sorry for me, though."

   James simply rolled his eyes. "Keith, you're really underestimating Lance here. Do you really think of him so lowly that you'd think he'd just look after you because he felt obligated?"

   It was harsh, but it was needed. Keith opened his mouth to speak, before closing it.

   "Exactly. Lance is a  _nice_ person. He likes you! At least as a friend, and you can have the right to a dinner of your choice, on  _me_ if he doesn't like you more than that."

   "Be prepared to lose the bet, then," Keith sighed, sinking lower in his seat.

   "Keith, you are amazing and you are so  _worth_ happiness, okay? You're  _hot_ , Lance is  _hot_ , clearly you're both made for each other!" He gave Keith a nudge.

   "I'm beginning to think it's not actually me that's 'smitten' over someone," Keith muttered, turning to look out the window to hide his small smile. 

   "Seriously, Keith, you've  _got_ to ask him out. Hey, what if you ask him out by the end of tour? If he says no, it's not gonna be awkward, you don't have to see him ever again. 

He says yes, which he _should_ if he has any common sense, then you can come and bow before me and kiss my feet and tell me I was _right_. And buy me dinner.”

“I am _not_ kissing your disgusting feet.”

“ _Fine,_ killjoy, but you’ve gotta do the rest. Please?”

Keith considered it, before looking to James slyly.

“Oh shit,” James muttered, glancing at Keith. “What?”

“I’ll ask out Lance, if you ask out Nadia. We have until the end of tour to do it.”

“Motherfucker,” James muttered, pulling in front of Allura’s house. “Fine!” He threw out his hand. “But _only_ because I know you and Lance would make the _cutest_ couple. Be thankful, Kogane, I’m prepared to make a fool out of myself for the sake of your love life.”

“I’m pretty sure Nadia likes you back, it’s fine, James,” Keith reassured as he shook James’s hand. “I’m not sure you won’t make a fool out of yourself doing it though, you’re hopeless.” Keith knew it would really be _him_ making a fool out of himself and being rejected. He didn’t mind that, James had been pining over Nadia since they first met, when she’d lifted him and carried him halfway across campus just to prove that she was stronger than him.

“Wow, thanks Keith, great friend,” James muttered, rolling his eyes. “Now shoo! Go get your man!”

Keith slapped him gently, dropping a couple of coins into the small empty chewing gum pot on James’s dashboard. It had a piece of paper cello taped over the top, with a small coin-shaped hole cut into it. Across the handmade lid, was the word ‘tips!’ Written in neon pink marker.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” James held out his hand again. Keith shook it, only to hit himself on the gearstick as James tugged him forward into a suffocating hug.

“Love you,” James mumbled into Keith’s shoulder.

Keith chuckled, ruffling James’s hair. “Love you too.”

 

-

 

Keith stood in front of the door, hearing James drive away just as it pushed open. A tall, ginger man with a twirled moustache and a clashing royal-blue suit opened the door. “Ah, and who exactly are you, boy?” He asked. His voice had a slight, New-Zealand twang to it. 

“Uh,” Keith tried to look over his shoulder, but even on his tiptoes he wasn’t quite tall enough. He just hoped Lance was here already - had he even let anyone else know Keith was coming? “I’m Keith,” he replied, his voice drowned out by a cacophony of shrieks coming from inside.

“PIDGE YOU BETTER PUT MY MICROPHONE BACK TO A NORMAL SETTING!” An unnaturally low pitched voice growled.

“What was that?” The man leaned in, and Keith grimaced at the all-too-heavy scent of cologne, smelling very much like a boys locker room after a PE lesson.

“I’m Keith!” Keith yelled as more screaming tore through the mansion. Were they trying to cover Down With The Sickness? With that vocal edit? What the _fuck_?

A hand placed itself on Coran’s shoulder and pulled him out of the way. A tall girl gave Keith a wide smile, her bleached-white hair a stark contrast to her dark skin. Keith remembered her from the band meeting, realising this must be Allura. 

“Keith! It’s nice to see you. I’ll guide you down to our basement. Lance, Hunk and Pidge are, uh…’warming up’.” Now the voice was attempting to rap what Keith vaguely recognised as a Nicki Minaj song. He could already feel a headache starting to develop in the base of his skull.

She lead him through the large, dizzying halls. Keith was sure that some rooms were bigger than their _shop_ , let alone their apartment!

She took him down a flight of stairs, where the muffled music and garbled voice grew louder, until she threw open the door. There, they witnessed Lance dabbing as he claimed someone was a ‘stupid hoe’, whilst Pidge was filming the whole ordeal from her drum stool and Hunk looked like he was ready to explode from second-hand embarrassment.

   The basement itself was a complete contrast to the tidy house. Worn out posters were pasted up all over the walls, with drawings by marker of various doodles, from depictions of stick figures labelled Lance, Allura, Pidge, Hunk, and one which was scribbled out, to random lyrics and quotes. Pillows and blankets were sprawled all over the floor, and Keith was  _sure_ that was a mini-fridge in the corner. 

Allura cleared her throat to try and alert the others of their presence, which obviously didn’t work. She let out a long, tired sigh, cupping her hands around her mouth. 

“ _PALADINS!”_ She yelled. Lance froze, and, speaking into the microphone with that deep voice, said:

“Yes, Princess?”

She gestured to Keith, who _wished_ he’d brought James with him, just so that he could confirm he wasn’t having some crazy dream, and because he would _never_ believe Keith if he told him what he just witnessed.

“Keith is here, maybe we should get some _real_ practising done now?”

“This isn’t _real_ practising?” Lance joked, sauntering up to them both, almost stumbling over the microphone wire in the process. “I think it is. I think we should record all our future songs with this setting.”

“YES!” Pidge shouted from the back.

Allura pursed her lips. “No,” she answered curtly. “We are not doing that.”

“Suit yourself,” Lance shrugged, turning to Keith. “Keith! Hey!” He pulled Keith into a suffocating hug, smelling heavily of cigarettes. Keith winced at how tightly Lance held him, but at the same time remembered his conversation with James earlier, and found his cheeks burning red.

“Hey, Lance,” Keith managed to reply. Eventually Lance let go, giving him a wide grin.

“You ready to watch us tear this place apart?”

“There will be no tearing things apart!” Allura butted in quickly, and distantly, Keith could hear Pidge whine. “But, we will definitely show you what we’re capable of, Keith.”

“I’m sure you will,” Keith smiled. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

 

-

 

Keith wasn’t too sure what he had expected from the rehearsal, but as he sat in the corner on one of the worn-out couches as Pidge and Lance clashed heads and gnashed teeth, whilst Hunk tried his best to calm them down (only to get snapped at in the process), did Keith realise that _this_ wasn’t it.

It had started with Lance messing up the guitar solo, or so Pidge had claimed. Even Keith, who hadn’t heard the song before, could tell Lance had sped up the tempo by almost double, causing the rest of the band to struggle to keep up. Throughout the song he struggled to play such complicated guitar parts _and_ sing the lyrics correctly, either humming the melody out for the sake of getting the guitar part right, or getting the lyrics right but striking the wrong chords.

Lance had gotten frustrated, and when Hunk had accidentally forgotten a pause, he’d exploded at him, causing Pidge to let from behind her kit to defend him.

“Lance, face it! You _can’t_ play guitar and sing!” Pidge snapped at Lance. “We _need_ to get someone in, _anyone_ , even if we ask someone from MFE to do it!”

“I’m not _useless_ , Pidge! I can do it!”

“I never said you were useless!”

Allura seemed to have very much given up on the two, betraying to Keith that this happened often. After failing to calm the two down, Hunk had shuffled to stand where Keith was, stunned to see the two members tear at each other’s throats with acidic words.

The moment Lance tries to walk out, Keith springs to his feet and stops him.

“Hey, it’s okay. What if I learn the parts and play for now? Would that be easier?” Keith suggested, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

He hesitated, looking back to Allura, Hunk and Pidge. They all nodded. Keith guessed they’d do anything to take some of the weight off of Lance’s shoulders.

“I, uh, but…you…” Lance sighed, running a hand through his hair, seemingly deflating. “Okay, fine. Here,” he hands Keith his guitar. “Be careful with her, though!” He snaps a little too harshly, flinching afterwards.

“Chill, I will. Don’t want to destroy my hard work restringing her,” Keith gave him a reassuring smile. “Now, what song are you guys doing and what are the chords?”

After a while of talking Keith through the structure of the song, and a lot of restarts after he forgets certain queues, they manage to play a song the whole way through. Lance was able to sing without worrying about the chords (apart from shouting out ‘verse!’ ‘Chorus!’ ‘Guitar out’ ‘guitar in!’ So that Keith knew his queues).

“Dude, you’re a natural!” Hunk hi-fived him. Keith smiled a little. 

“I’m not sure I’d go that far, I _still_ forgot that pause.”

“Still, for your first time, you did really well, Keith,” Allura smiled. “It sounded better than it has done in a while.”

Pidge gave a sly smile. “Yeah, maybe you should stick around, play guitar in all of our rehearsals in the future. We could really use an extra member.”

“Uh, I’m not really one for performing on stage,” Keith rubs the back of his neck. “Like, at all. Last time I did was in high school and James gave me a concussion with his guitar.”

“What?!” Pidge spluttered.

“You don’t have to perform! Just help us get the basis of the new songs and set until we find someone else? Please?” Hunk pleaded. 

Keith looked to Lance, who had a bitter look on his face, arms folded. Keith frowned a little. “What do you think, Lance?”

“I don’t care,” Lance shrugged, hands trembling a little. “Do what you want, Keith.”

Keith sighed. “Okay, I’ll do it, but you’d better not make me join your band.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Pidge mumbled, though had her hands behind her back, which made Keith suspicious.

Before he could call her out, the door clicked shut, and he realised Lance had disappeared. “Uh, what’s up with Lance?” Keith asked them. Allura and Pidge shrugged.

“He gets like this sometimes,” Hunk mumbled. “It’s become a lot more often, recently actually. He just kinda snaps. He gets a little erratic and…we were hoping you’d know what was up.”

“Me?'

“You both have been spending _a lot_ of time together,” Pidge explained, though her face was void of the usual teasing smirk.

“And he never stops talking about you. I feel like I know you better than Hunk and Pidge and we’ve only just properly met,” Allura added.

“O-Oh,” Keith mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I’d better, uh, see if he’s okay.”

Keith eased his way through the halls, not even sure if he was going in the right direction. He reached what seemed to be a dining hall, with patio doors that lead to a large garden that had a _pond._

Lance was sitting by the pond, billows of cigarette smoke puffing out from his lips. Keith let out a sigh, sliding open the door and making his way over. He takes a seat next to him, folding his knees up to his chest. Lance throws a pebble into the pond, causing a ripple effect, distorting both his and Keith’s reflection.

He offers Keith a cigarette, not saying a word as he holds out the packet. Keith hesitates, before taking one. Shiro wasn’t around to find out - besides, it was only one. “Thanks,” he mutters, accepting the lighter and letting the flame lick at the end of the cigarette. He takes a breath, feeling the bitter fumes burn his throat. “Lance-“

“Keith,” Lance speaks at the same time. Keith lets him continue. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, I…” His voice was hoarse and the hand that wasn’t holding onto his cigarette was rubbing at his arm. “I just…tour is coming up soon and we still don’t have a guitarist, we sound like shit and I just feel like I’m proving my father right.” He mumbled the last part, but they were sitting so close, Keith heard him anyway.

“Your father? What did he say?” Keith asked.

“That I’m wasting my time chasing after dreams I can’t actually achieve.” Lance sighs, running a hand through his hair. “He thinks my band is a waste of time and money, says that it’s not going to amount to anything. Maybe he’s right.” His voice cracks.

“Lance, you’re touring the country!” Keith reminds him. “You _just_ played a sold out show - you’re signed to a good record company, you get to make music with your best friends, so what if it doesn’t make any money, it’s what you love to do. Shouldn’t that be all that matters?”

Lance simply shrugs.

Keith sighs, before making a decision he knows he’s probably going to end up regretting. “Look, Lance, if you’re really desperate for a guitarist, I don’t mind playing for you. Just send me your songs you want to do for the set and I’ll learn them for your next rehearsal. Or…as many as I can, anyway.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, that’s _way_ too much work, Keith.”

“It’s fine, it gives me something to do when the shop’s dead,” Keith reassured with a smile. “I mean, the one we just did didn’t sound too bad, did it? Or am I secretly really shit and you’re too nice to break it to me?”

Lance smiled a little. “No, you’re great. It’s…It’s great. Thank you. Just…are you sure you want to?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want you, believe me,” Keith returned the smile.

“Thank you. That…That helps a lot.”

Keith finished the cigarette and the two simply sat cradled in the arms of nature for a while. The air was humid, thick and heavy and hard to breathe, promising an oncoming storm. The birds around them chirped in the rustling trees, and the pond before them lapped gently. Lance plucked petals off of a flower, whilst Keith lay back and watched the clouds, growing darker in the horizon.

“Ah, there you are!” Hunk burst through the patio doors, carrying a tray of drinks and baked goods. “Pidge, ‘Lura! They’re out here!”

Keith sits up, seeing the three members of Lance’s band filter out. Hunk takes a seat next to Lance.

“Ma made me bring that strawberry shortcake she said to you about yesterday,” Hunk told Lance, handing him a large slice that had been carefully placed on a china plate. “And ‘Lura made some lemonade - Pidge did _not_ touch it, Lance, don’t worry.

“Why didn’t you touch it?” Keith asked Pidge, who had taken a seat in between him and Lance.

“Last time I put a shit ton of chilli oil in it. It was _hilarious._ ”

Keith was _very_ glad that Pidge didn’t touch the lemonade. He was also very glad he was here to experience Hunk’s mother’s baking. It was _amazing._

“I’m sorry about earlier, guys,” Lance mumbled awkwardly, nibbling on tiny mouthfuls of cake. “I just…I lost my cool because I was stressed. I shouldn’t have snapped at anyone. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re the singer. You’re meant to be a diva,” Pidge joked.

“I’m sure we’ve all had our moments, Lance, it’s fine,” reassured Allura, with a smile.

“Oh, and Keith has agreed to join our band to be our guitarist for the tour,” Lance added. Allura and Hunk broke into smiles, whilst Pidge simply glowered.

“Since _when_?” Pidge turned to Keith, “you haven’t even passed the initiation!”

“The what?”

“First you have to-“ Pidge’s ramblings were muffled by Lance’s hand.

“There is no initiation, just-“ Lance paused, before sighing. “Pidge, I have three siblings, ten cousins and a nephew, you licking my hand has no effect on me anymore. _Anyway_ , as I was saying, there is no initiation, or anything, she’s just lying to try and get you to do some stupid shit.”

“Of course,” Keith nodded. Lance finally let her go. She began coughing and hacking.

“Ugh, you could have warned me about your _hands_ Lance! They _stink_! I feel like I just second-hand smoked and that is _disgusting_.”

Lance shoved Pidge gently. “You’re disgusting!”

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, before wrestling in a heap on the floor. Allura buried her face in her hands.

“I apologise Keith, this happens _a lot_.”

Keith simply shrugs to say it’s okay, watching Hunk try and stop Lance from throwing a shrieking Pidge into the pond.

 

-

 

“So, a band, huh?” Shiro mumbled, taking a sip of water with his prosphetic. It was shaky and shuddery, but it was better than yesterday, when he’d accidentally thrown the cup at the wall. 

Keith hums, typing out a quick message to Lance saying he could make it to the rehearsal in a weeks time. “That’s great, Keith. I hope I’m out of here and moving about by then, Curtis and I will have to come see you.”

‘You don’t have to push yourself, Shiro, you’re only just being let out next week,” Keith mumbled, squeezing Shiro’s hand a little.

“I don’t care if I’m _crawling_ to that damn show, Keith, I’m watching my little brother play in his new band and that’s final.”

Keith flashed Shiro a small smile. “Just don’t cramp my style, old man.”

“If I wasn’t gonna get my ass kicked by the nurses for moving, you’d be _dead_ , Keith.”

“You would _never_.”

“Just wait ’til I get home next week, Keith. You’ll be sorry.”

Keith smiled softly. “I’m sure I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly the Shiro/Keith interaction has no relevance to the plot i just wanted my soft bois interacting again because I'm weak, haha.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just sit back, enjoy the show, you're the cherry, I'm the cigarette, chasing after midnight with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm sorry this is a little late - it's been a little bit of a rough week. I'm sorry if there's more mistakes than usual, I'll go back through it at some point. Enjoy!
> 
> The lyrics Lance sings are from Don't You Go by All Time Low. I like to think their style is very much like theirs. Link for the songgg: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDSiMwirXVE

 

Keith anxiously paced back and forth in the lounge, the low hum of Paladin’s music drifting through the apartment. It had been the only music he’d listened to since agreeing to become the band’s temporary guitarist - knowing that he’d need to know the songs inside and out in order to be able to play them. If he wasn’t practising, he was listening, trying to memorise each pause, transition, solo, and lyric.

But right now, he wasn’t doing too good of a job of listening to it. His guitar laid abandoned on the couch, a string broken. Keith had managed to break it, even though he only replaced it last week, and he could only blame it on his nerves that had been attacking him all week.

If the assessments go right today, Shiro should be able to come home. Though Keith could do nothing in his state right now - there was no way he was riding his bike, _ever_ , let alone taking Shiro on a ride having just come out of hospital - and so, all he could do was anxiously wait for Curtis’s shift to finish and for him to give that all-important call to say whether he’d be coming home with company, or alone. 

Keith hoped Shiro was well enough to go home. He knew from experience that you don’t truly feel _better_ until you’re back in your own bed. 

He rubbed the back of his hand, remembering the wires that had been connected to it, the constant noise and burning smell of antiseptic. Of having to deal with the fact that not only had he watched his brother break down so horrifically he was threatened to be anaesthetised by the nurses, but also the fact that he was the reason for-

His phone rang, and he quickly rushed over. It wasn’t Curtis, much to Keith’s dismay, but Pidge. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how Pidge had gotten his number, just at some point between their last rehearsal and their last lunch meet up (which Keith was now obliged to turn up to every week, apparently), she had texted him a meme about some emo band Keith listened to in his pre-teen days (and definitely didn’t keep the poster he used to have of them). Since discovering it was her, and her refusing to say how she got his number, they’d occasionally just sent each other the occasional meme or photo, but that was all. 

Hesitantly, he answered. 

“Hello?”  


“Keith! Hi!” Pidge’s voice crackled through the speaker. “So, uh, Hunk’s here. We were just wondering if you’ve spoken to Lance this week at all?”

“No, why?”

“Oh, okay.” There were hushed mutters as the pair spoke between them.

“Is he okay?” Keith checked, cutting through their conversation. “He seems a little off, but, I’m not sure. You guys know him better than me?”

“Yeah, he gets like that sometimes,” Hunk sighed.

“Do you want me to knock round his door again? It didn’t work last time, but I can try again,” Keith frowned. 

“No, it’s okay. Hunk’ll handle it,” Pidge replied. 

“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Hunk mumbled, though he didn’t sound too sure.

Keith heard the sound of an engine, and quickly glanced out his window to see Curtis’ car pulling up. “Hey, uh, I’ve gotta go. But text me if you need me to do anything. I’ll text him later?”  


“Sounds good. Though, if he doesn’t reply to _you_ then we’re all fucked.” Pidge muttered. Keith frowned a little, but the sight of Curtis helping Shiro out the car distracted him. 

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you guys Thursday!” He feels his lips stretch into a smile, the feeling almost foreign to him.

“See ya!” They both shout, and Keith hangs up quickly, anxiously pacing again, until finally, he hears the front door click open.

“Wow, good to see the place hasn’t burnt to the ground yet,” Shiro’s voice filtered through the hall. Curtis scoffed.

“Yeah, because you weren’t here to set fire to the kitchen attempting to cook _eggs_. Now come on, let’s sit you down.”

Keith rushed into the hall, giving Shiro a beaming smile. Shiro returned it tiredly. He was wearing a long sleeved jumper, but Keith could still see the metal hand poking through. He bit his lip, feeling the guilt resurfacing again, his smile faltering.

“Hey, Keith, wow, fancy seeing you _here_ for a change,” Shiro mumbled, and though Keith _knew_ it was meant to be a lighthearted joke, he still froze and shivered a little. Curtis noticed and sighed.

“Come on, ‘Kashi, you need to _sit down_.”

Shiro simply tugged himself out of Curtis’s grip, wrapping his arm tightly around Keith. “I missed you. Both of you.”

“We visited every day,” Curtis deadpanned. Shiro simply laughed, and Keith gave him a squeeze, before finally helping Curtis drag him to the lounge for him to sit down. “Keith, are you okay to grab Shiro’s stuff from the boot while I sort out his meds?”

“Sure.” Keith caught Curtis’s keys. Shiro whined.

“You’re both leaving me? Already?!”

“We’ll be back soon,” Curtis pecked Shiro on the nose.

“I won’t. I’m going on a joyride.” Keith waved Curtis’s keys in the air. “See ya, fuckers!”

“Keith! _Language_!”

_Shiro’s home, alright,_ thought Keith, holding back a chuckle.

 

-

 

_“You’re the cherry, I’m a cigarette, chasing after midnight-“_ Lance cut off, coughing. Keith stopped playing for a second, watching him, though he just gestures for Keith to carry on with the rest of the band. Throughout the set, lance had either stopped to cough or take a drink, or just mumbled through the words. Something about him was off, and Keith was sure everyone noticed.

Though, how couldn’t they? Lance looked a _mess._ Even Keith knew he valued his appearance, however, today Lance’s hair was matted and greasy as though he hadn’t washed it in a good few days. His blue flannel he wore was creased, clearly having been something he’d picked up from a screwed up heap on the floor (Keith knew, because he used to come out looking the same way after one of his one-night-stands), and he was certain he saw him wearing the same shirt at their lunch date a couple of days ago. 

It was so _unlike_ Lance, the guy, who when Keith was living with him, had quite literally screamed because he found out Keith _didn’t_ condition his hair, or - what horror - _moisturise_. 

In fact, even from the other side of the room, where Keith was surrounded in copious sheets of lyrics with notes scrawled all over them, Keith could smell the nicotine pouring off of Lance. Or at least, he assumed it was Lance. He was sure that Allura, who wasn’t far away on the keys, didn’t smoke. 

By the end of the song, Lance finished the rest of his water bottle, letting out a tired sigh. Pidge and Hunk were discussing a certain part between them - apparently Hunk wasn’t quite in synch with Pidge’s bass-pedal, though Keith hadn’t noticed, having been too busy both trying to make sure he got his part right, and keeping an eye on Lance.

Whilst the other two were distracted, and Allura was fiddling with the settings on her keyboard, he trailed over to where Lance was standing.

“Uh, Lance?” Keith mumbled, holding out one of his sheets of paper, covered in both his and Lance’s writing. “For the bridge here, is there another solo after it or-“

“It’s just an instrumental. Do what you did for the intro,” Lance explained, squinting at the small tears in the corners, before sighing. “Uh, yeah. Do the intro.”

“Thanks. Uh, also, is everything alright?” Keith asked, placing a hand on his arm. “You seem…off.” He frowned. He was sure Lance had gotten a little thinner. 

“I’m fine!” Lance almost snapped, his voice heightening in pitch, rubbing his arm nervously. “I just, uh, rough time at work, you know? I haven’t had a day off since, uh…ages ago. My voice is wrecked after practising so much, gotta get it right, you know?”

“Why didn’t you say? I’m sure that we could have pushed back the rehearsal, you need to at least rest your voice.” Keith frowned. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine,” Lance shrugged. “I prefer to make the most out of my days off anyway.”

Keith decided to drop it, as it seemed Lance didn’t want to discuss it further.

“Have you got any plans for later?” Keith asked. Lance shook his head. Keith hesitated, fiddling with the piece of paper in his hand, remembering James giving him ‘relationship advice’ in Shiro’s hospital room, voice a whisper as Shiro slept, telling him to “ask him out for dinner or something, no one turns down the offer of free food.”

He couldn’t believe he was taking advice from James, the boy who thought that a good place to go out with your date for a meal was McDonalds (although, in James’s defence, he was only 16, but still…)

“Do you wanna go get dinner after this, or something?” Keith suggested, surprised he’d even asked without running away first. 

Lance paused, as though mulling it over. Keith sighed, ready for the excuse, to be teased relentlessly for it. Instead, he smiled a little and nodded.

“Sure. But, uh, is it alright if you buy this time and I’ll buy the next one?”

“I was gonna offer to pay for it anyway,” Keith smiled, letting out a sigh in relief. 

“Thanks, Keith. Where-“

“Oi! Lovebirds! Come over here so we can finish this fucking set and I can go get a milkshake!” Pidge called from behind her kit, seconds after hitting cymbal after cymbal until Keith and Lance step back over.

“Quit it, Pidge!” Lance yelled in the mic. “Ugh. Let’s do Weightless so Keith can get that riff down on the bridge.”

Keith quickly rummaged through his notes to find the song, before putting his thumb up for Hunk to count them in.

 

-

 

They’re almost done with the set when Keith’s phone begins to buzz in his pocket. His mind immediately goes to Shiro, and stops playing to pull it out, only to see James’s name pop up. Assuming it’s just him deciding to ring Keith because Ryan is out and he’s bored, Keith leaves it, dropping his phone onto his jacket and joining back in, shrugging off Lance’s concerned glance. James knew he’d call back later when he had the time, it was okay.

Though, instead of his phone shutting off, as soon as the dial tone goes through, it begins to ring again. Keith stops again, which leads the whole band to stop. 

He lifts his phone up, shrugging off his guitar. “Sorry, guys, I’ve gotta answer this.” He mumbled, knowing James only ever rang twice in an emergency - and _not_ the kind of emergency where Ryan wouldn’t let him eat the rest of the ice cream _Ryan_ had bought, and he just _had_ to bitch to Keith about it (usually so that Keith would get so sick of his whining he’d go with him to an ice cream parlour in town.)

He rushed out to the back garden as he answered the call, giving Coran a small wave as he passed him in the kitchen. 

“Hey James, what’s up?” He asked, stepping over to the churning lake that reflected the grey and dreary sky above. He watched his reflection warp and distort, a few flecks of orange flickering under the surface from the fish living inside.

“He’s gone,” is all James said, his voice distant. _Shit_ , Keith thought, running a hand through his hair. He _knew_ that James’s father was seriously ill, that was why James kept visiting him, but he didn’t realise he was _that_ bad. James had seemed _fine._

Keith felt like a horrible friend for not noticing sooner.

Knowing James wouldn’t appreciate the usual meaningless apologies (Keith definitely didn’t either), he asked: “where are you right now?” His voice rasped, throat felt dry. He was never good at comforting others.

“I’m at the park,” James mumbled. “I…I need you.”

“It’s okay. I’m on my way now. It’s not that far from here, I won’t be long, okay?” Keith didn’t expect an answer, and so quickly darted back down to Allura’s basement, where the four were waiting, his phone still held to his ear.

“What’s wrong?” Allura asked, noticing Keith’s devastated expression. Lance watched Keith wearily. 

“I’m really sorry, I’ve got to go,” Keith mumbled. Lance immediately grabbed his keys. 

“Is it Shiro? Is he okay?” Lance asked.

“No, no, it’s okay. James, uh…something’s happened. I need to go find him.” Keith knew that like him, James was a private person and wouldn’t appreciate the rest of the band knowing what happened.

“Is he okay? Does he need anything? Is there anything we can do to help?” Hunk began to fuss. 

“No, but thank you. He just needs someone right now,” Keith mumbled, slinging his rucksack over one shoulder. “I’m sorry I’ve gotta cut this short. And Lance, I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it to dinner later. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better!” Lance forced a smile. “I hope he’s okay.”

“I hope he is too,” Keith mumbled.

 

-

 

Back when James and Keith were kids, they were sworn enemies. From the day at high school during PE when they were in opposite teams for their soccer match, and the competitiveness had gotten to their heads, and Keith had said he was the best striker there, James had made an offhanded comment, crooning how that was probably something only his mom and dad told him to make him feel better. As soon as the tease had left his lips, he’d found himself tackled to the ground, Keith punching him in the face. They’d both been dragged apart by their coach, Iverson, who was the strictest teacher Keith had ever met, and they’d been made to sit opposite sides of the office. 

It wasn’t until a year later, when they’d both been put into a small group therapy session, Keith because at the time he was being tossed between foster homes, and James because of his anxiety and because at the time, his father had just been diagnosed. They’d had one private session with the counsellor each, then been tossed into a room together with her. Keith had refused to talk in the sessions, scared that James would make fun of him. James spoke rarely, too, but after a while, during all the childish activities of making their own play doh to fiddle with when stressed, or making a small, stupid ‘first aid box’ to put things that made them happy inside, they ended up having a little more respect for each other.

He was sure that it was the counsellor’s doing, but the two of them always arrived to the room first. It started off with an offhanded comment from James about how shit the sessions were, and Keith agreeing, to them gradually talking and realising their similarities.

Eventually, instead of going to the groups, they’d sneak out of school for a couple of hours, coming down to the park Keith was in now, to smoke and bitch about the troubles of being a teenager, rather than the more harrowing troubles they faced at home. They soon moved to talking about their more personal struggles, Keith with his lack of parents and feeling like he didn’t belong, and James with the pressure of such an uptight and overbearing father who insulted and criticised everything he did.

Soon, hanging out for half an hour every Tuesday and Friday became them hanging out every lunch time, and very quickly they became inseparable. They _understood_ each other.

Keith remembered meeting James’s father, only once. He was a stern-faced man and had never approved of James being friends with Keith. He’d always accused Keith of being a criminal, someone who would get James into trouble, who was a bad influence on him. James, of course, ignored him, though it meant meeting up was a lot harder. At one point, James had even had to change Keith’s name on his phone so his father wouldn’t catch them talking to each other.

Needless to say, Keith had never liked James’s father, but still, he’d never wished _this_ on him. Once again Keith found himself furious at the world for stealing away yet _another_ life so carelessly.

Keith sees James now, in the place under the old oak tree that they used to sit under so many times as kids, knees hugged to his chest as he stares blankly at the ground. He looked very much like he did when he was a kid, lost and alone.

Keith takes a seat next to him, rummaging through his bag to pull out some brownies wrapped in tinfoil that Hunk had _insisted_ he give to James.

“Hunk told me to give you these.” Keith placed them down next to James, sitting quietly and waiting for him to speak. The air, or lack of it, was humid today, and even from he shade of the tree Keith found sweat begin to drip down the back of his neck. He leans back against the tree trunk and lets out a sigh, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, watching the sky illuminate in shades of pink and orange, looking like those sherbet packets that Keith always saw in sweet shop windows as a kid.

Distantly, two small children screamed and shouted, kicking a ball between them and their father. Their mother watches from the blanket set on the ground, a smile stretched over her face as she holds up a small camera, snapping photos of the three of them. 

Eventually, James spoke: “Keith, am I a good person?” His voice rasped, muffled behind his knees. 

Keith blinked, taken aback by the question. He places an arm around James. James leans into him, still staring at the family playing the ball game, his blue eyes that were usually so bright filled with a joy that were a washed-out grey.

“Of course you are. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now,” Keith mumbled. “You give so much to people, James. You’re always there for everyone who needs it; Ryan, Ina, Nadia…me. You were even there for me when I kept trying my damn hardest to push you away. No matter how much I pushed, shoved, yelled, you always stuck by me, even when I didn’t deserve it, and…” Keith trailed off. “Do you really think a _bad_ person would do that?” James stayed silent, though lowered his gaze a little. “Why are you doubting yourself?” He placed a hand on James’s shoulder, feeling it tremble a little. 

“I just…” James took in a deep, shuddering breath. “I…When my sister called to tell me he died, I just…I didn’t feel _anything._ I feel numb like I…like I don’t care? I should be upset, he’s my _father_ , but I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel upset or…Is that wrong? Am I a bad person because.I can’t even cry when my father dies?”

Keith frowned a little. “You can’t help how you feel. If you don’t feel anything, that’s fine…it’s not like you can _make_ yourself sad over it. Besides, it’s understandable. He’s spent years hurting you and bringing you down, of _course_ you’re not going to be torn over it-“

“But he’s dead!” James snapped, quivering. “He’s dead and I don’t feel _anything_! How can I be so…so cold?!” James grabs fistfuls of his hair. 

“You’re not being cold. It’s perfectly natural to feel this way, especially after he spent so long hurting you and dragging you down all the time,” Keith reassured him. “Besides, some people _don’t_ cry when a loved one dies, sometimes they can’t _believe_ that they’re gone. It might be different once you go to his funeral, when you can come to terms with it and get closure.”

“That’s-that’s another thing,” James mumbled, looking up with glossy eyes, shame flooding through them. “I don’t…I don’t know if I can go. I know I should but…I don’t think I can cope with everyone there, saying how good of a man he was when he…” A single tear dripped down James’s cheek. Keith wiped it away with his thumb.

“That’s your choice, James. No one’s going to think any less of you if you don’t go. I certainly won’t,” Keith mumbled gently. “Shiro’s mother didn’t let him go to his father’s funeral when he died, either. She said seeing everyone in his family would just upset him even more. Instead they went and visited his grave the day after, so that Shiro still got closure and the chance to say goodbye without…without everything else. We could do that, if you like. Just me and you visiting him, if you don’t think you can cope.”

“But isn’t that selfish of me?” James whispered. Keith placed both hands on James’s shoulders.

“No, it is not selfish.”

“But it is, he’s _dead_ and I’m here alive and whining over having to go to his fucking funeral!” More tears fall from his eyes and he stifles a sob. Keith sighs, pulling him into a hug. James buries his head into his shoulder.

“You don’t have to go, James,” Keith repeats with a soft voice. “It’s not selfish if you don’t go, it’s perfectly understandable. If you don’t feel like you can handle it, then don’t. If you do decide you want to go, and if you need some company, I can come with you so you don’t feel alone.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, not when you’ve been to so many, it’ll just bring up bad-“

“Exactly,” Keith cut through. “I’m used to them now,” the attempt at a chuckle tasted bitter in Keith’s mouth. James was beginning to ramble and talk in circles, the conversation not really getting anywhere anymore, so Keith decided it was now time to distract him. “You don’t have to make the decision right now. Give yourself time to mourn, okay? Let your mother and sister handle it, and think about it later. Right now, we’ve got shit to do.”

James pulled away and looked at him wearily. “What?”

Keith unwrapped the brownies. “Like this. We’ve gotta eat all these, and look,” he gestured to the expanse of the sky, darkening in colour, the oranges more vivid, and pinks turning to reds. “The sun’s setting. We haven’t watched a sunset together in _ages._ ” With that, Keith settled to lie down. After a moment, James joined him. 

“Remember when we’d sneak out to do this?” Keith asked, keeping the silence far away so that James had no time to think. 

“Yeah, all that’s missing are the cigarettes,” James mumbled, nibbling on a piece of Hunk’s brownie. “If me breaking our deal didn’t mean that you’d have to have one now too, I’d totally go for one right now.”

Keith bit his lip, remembering his cigarette with Lance. He found he could do with one too. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Remember when we used to try and steal booze from the corner shop just north from here and get drunk during lunch time?”

James chuckled. “Vodka in a water bottle. How original of us.” He turned his head slightly to look to Keith. “Remember that time you almost got caught stealing it and we ended up running to the rich side of town, with all the mansions?”

“Yeah, we pretended that we actually lived down there. Then we got busted by Curtis.” Keith pulled a face, before turning back to look to the sky.

“Man, if only you knew the new police officer on the block was gonna be your new brother-in-law,” James chuckled. “Still, he was nice enough to just give us a lift back home. We could have easily been made to do some kind of community service for that, _at least._ ”

“I think community service would have been _better_ than the wrath of Shiro and his mum,” Keith pulled a face. “I was grounded for _months._ ”

“Yeah, because of that I almost fell out your window trying to sneak in to see you.”

Keith laughed. “I _did_ break my arm trying to sneak into your room once.”

“Oh yeah, my dad _freaked_. He tried stopping me from seeing you thinking you-“ James cut himself off, before turning on his side to face Keith, smile dropping a little.

“Remember our first show we played at school, when we’d just became friends? We played Basket Case. You got _way_ too into the guitar solo at the end and ended up hitting me in the face and giving me a concussion,” Keith chuckled.

James laughed. “Back in the day where you actually sang to people. Does Lance know you sing? You should totally do backup vocals. I should tell him.”

“Already knows,” Keith stuck out his tongue. “Said I’m shit.”

“Obviously deaf,” James rolled his eyes, stifling a yawn. Keith smiles. 

“You wanna stay round mine tonight? Or do you want to call Ryan?”

“As much as I love you, and would love to relive our sleepover days, you fucking sleep talk and I kinda want a decent nights sleep.” James stretched a little. “Call Ryan to carry me away to my chamber, please,” he mumbles, attempting a posh British accent - badly. 

“Of course, Prince Charming,” Keith pulls out his phone and begins dialling Ryan’s number. He answers almost immediately. 

“Keith! Have you seen James? I’ve tried calling him he didn’t answer. I was just about to call you.”

“Yeah, I’m with him, don’t worry. I was calling to ask if you could come pick him up, actually. We’re in the park just near Shiro’s shop. He said he wants you to ‘carry him to his chamber’, apparently.”

There was a fond sigh from the other end of the line. “I’m on my way. Ask him if he wants pizza please?”

“James, Ryan asks if you want pizza?”

James tiredly holds out a thumbs up. 

“He says yes.”

“Alright. I’m on my way. Do you want a lift home?”

“No, I’m good. I’m not that far - but thank you.”

“No problem, Keith, I’ll be ten minutes max.”

 

-

 

Ryan quite literally had to carry James, as he’d fallen asleep before his friend had turned up. Keith didn’t have the heart to wake him, and neither did Ryan. After bidding Ryan a quiet goodbye and helping to settle James in the car, he waved goodbye and began his journey home. 

It had since gotten dark, and as Ryan pulled away, he regretted reassuring him he’d be fine walking home. A chill ran up the back of his neck and he shivered, remembering last time he was stranded out in the dark, the feeling of hands crawling up his spine causing him to shudder and start walking quickly through the dark streets. 

He kept a hand in his jacket pocket as he walked, clutching his phone. Ever since that night, he’s _hated_ being alone in the ark, and it was _pathetic,_ which was partly the reason why he decided not to take Ryan’s offer in driving him home. He had to get over it at some point, so what better time than the present?

His footsteps echoed through the streets, neon lights flickering and though they illuminated the path in front of him, they also caused dark shadows to flicker in corners. Keith shuddered again and picked up his pace, almost collapsing from fright at the distant scream of a fox. 

A streetlamp ahead flickers back on, illuminating two figures before him, one with their hands gripped around the other’s throat, pushing him into a wall. Their harsh breaths and hissed voices drift down with the icy night wind, right to Keith.

“You said you’d bring me my fucking money!” The gruff voice snapped, tossing the man onto the floor. Keith froze, pulling out his phone and texting Curtis immediately, the cold hands that felt as though they were gripping on his wrists sliding up to strangle him, all the air being pushed out of his lungs.

**_Keith:_ ** _Help. Round the corner from Shiro’s Chinese place._

Almost immediately, Curtis text back to say he was on his way, urging Keith to stay safe. 

Keith can’t find it in himself to move, his feet feeling as though they were frozen to the ground as he watches the poor man, who had finally lifted himself from the ground, get punched in the face, their hood falling and causing the glow of the streetlamp to illuminate their face. Blood runs out of their nose and drips onto their green jacket, tanned hands held out in defence as another punch is aimed.

Keith gasps, and runs without thinking. 

 

“ _LANCE?!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is half-written already, at least, so I'll try not to make it too late next time as I've left ya'll on a cliffhanger. >:)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’ve got a lot of talking to do,” Keith mumbles, watching Lance flinch a little, his eyes lift to fall onto Keith’s neck. Keith’s hand subconsciously touched it. He wondered if the bruising had began to show yet. How was he going to explain it to Shiro and Curtis?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: talk about drugs/addiction. No drugs are used in this chapter, though.
> 
> I didn't really like this chapter at first, tbh, it was a bit of a mess (like me). After about three rewrites and a shit ton of editing, I actually think this is one of my favourites so far so I hope you enjoy!

_“LANCE?!”_

In that moment, somehow, Keith had managed to push away his fear, the pounding in his heart that risked all his limbs to become stuck to the cracked tarmac underneath his feet. Every warning of getting into fights Shiro had given him echoed in his head, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from getting to Lance.

He rushed forward, running across the road, a car horn sounded distantly somewhere, but Keith didn’t notice; all he could see was Lance, in that dark corner, on the floor and ready to get a boot to the face.

Keith got there, taking the kick to his shin. He bites back the pain and pushes the man back with a punch to the face.

“Keith, no!” Lance scrambles to his feet, dragging Keith away. “I don’t need your help! I’m okay!”

“Lance, you’re _bleeding_!” Keith feels his breath catch in his throat, adrenaline pumping wildly through his veins as he shook.

“Because he owes _me_ money!” The man shoved Keith into Lance, Lance only barely able to keep them both up. 

Keith remains slumped in Lance’s arms, glancing between the two men. When his gaze reaches Lance, he flinches and looks away, dropping Keith to rub at his arm.

“Money.” Keith takes a look at the man again. A _good_ look, at his gaunt features and the small bag in his hand. Keith lets a shaky breath as he pulls his wallet from his pocket. 

“How much?” Keith asked with a trembling voice.

“Oh, so you’re getting your bitch to cover for you?” The man tries to shove Lance, but Keith takes it instead. He’s a whole head taller than Keith, he was probably ten times stronger, but he tried not to let that phase him.

“Does it matter?” Keith muttered through grit teeth, stepping closer to the man, a growl low in his throat.

A hand places itself on Keith’s shoulders. “$150”

Keith whips around, “what?”

“I owe him $150”

“Double it for all the hassle you gave me,” the man spat, shoving Keith back again. Keith clenched his fists, just about having had enough of him, but Lance grips onto his wrist tightly and nodded to the knife just visible in the man’s belt.

Keith swallows, looking to his measly $20. He knew he _definitely_ didn’t have that money to spare, but, what choice did they have? If Lance didn’t have the money, and Keith _definitely_ couldn’t take him out in a fight, what else could he do?

Keith cleared his throat, trying his best to withhold a strong eye contact with the dealer. “If you want your money, you’re gonna have to come with me to a cash machine.”

“ _No._ You’ve messed me around enough!” Keith found himself held up against the wall by the throat, fingers threatening to clench down. The man’s hand was _huge_ against Keith’s throat, and could so easily snap it. 

Keith swallowed down his fear, narrowing his eyes, trying not to shudder at the feeling the chill of the knife prodding his side, trying not to look at Lance, panicking, hands hovering over the man’s shoulders to tug him away. He’d spotted the knife, too.

“You’d better,” Keith hissed. “I’ve already called the cops, they’re on their way. If you act quickly you’ll get your money _and_ you’ll get away free.”

The man’s eye twitched, and for a second his fingers clenched down, so roughly Keith had to physically stop himself from kicking out. Just as he was about to give up and start fighting back, the man dropped him into a spluttering mess on the ground.

Lance hauled Keith to his feet, and together they lead the man to the cash machine. When they were a small distance from the man, Lance whispered: “are you okay?”

Keith simply nodded, taking deep breaths to try and ease the tightness of his chest as he approached the cash machine. He drew out $300, glad to see his card didn’t decline the transaction, before handing the man the money.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he spat at Keith, before turning on his heel and leaving just as Keith saw Curtis’s car round the corner. It started to slow, and Lance began to tremble again. 

“It’s okay, Curtis is picking me up. I’ll get him to give you a lift home, okay? Unless you don’t feel safe there right now? That guy doesn’t know where you live, does he?”

Lance can’t answer any of the questions, as Curtis had already pulled up, climbing out of the car and grabbing Keith by the shoulders. “Keith? Are you okay?” He fusses, checking Keith over.

“I’m fine, I just…someone ran into Lance and tried hurting him. They left when I told them I’d called the cops.”

“Do you want me to take you back to the station? You guys’ll need to make a statement, I’ll see if there’s any CCTV or-“

“Curtis, I really appreciate it but I think Lance just needs to be cleaned up and go to bed,” Keith mumbled at Lance’s terrified look. Curtis looked to Lance with a frown, before nodding.

“Okay. Shiro called me earlier saying he wants me to get takeout. I’ll get him to ring up and get it delivered. Lance, do you want to join us?”

“He does,” Keith spoke before Lance could refuse. He hesitates, realising Lance doesn’t have any money. “I’ll, uh, I’ll pay for his food,” he just hoped he had enough money left.

Curtis waved his hand. “Don’t be stupid. Me and ‘Kashi will cover it.”

“Thank you,” Lance spoke up, “but I can’t-“

“Yes, you can,” Keith gently pushed Lance in the back of the car, taking a seat next to him. Even if Keith _didn’t_ want to talk to Lance about what the hell just happened, and what he’d really just spent $300 on, he mostly just didn’t want Lance to go home alone, after something like that happened. “We insist.’

 

-

 

The car journey was silent, just as Keith had expected. Curtis’s radio is still going off at various points, different voices crackling through the car and disrupting the silence every now and then. None require Curtis’s input, it was just simple things, like someone contacting the station to get a cell ready for a drink-driver without a license who’d crashed his friends car, to someone needing parents to be contacted as a teenager had been caught vandalising someone’s property.

Lance could have so easily made his way onto Curtis’s radio. There could have _easily_ been someone calling on the radio to report that someone had been found on the streets, beaten up, requesting for someone to get on sight immediately to try and catch the culprit. There could have been a request to call for an ambulance, to find his next of kin - _Lance_ could have been arrested, his future _ruined_ if what he was doing was what Keith suspected it was.

Or worse, the radio could have never gone off. Lance could have been left in a puddle of his own blood, the world unaware as he slowly succumbs to the darkness of the night. 

Lance could have _died_. _He_ could have died.

He glanced at the man who now looked more like a boy. Lance kept his gaze firmly locked out the window, having avoided eye contact with Keith, and with Curtis through the rear-view mirror for the entire journey. Pale lights flashed across his tanned skin, now blossoming with a dark bruise across his jaw. His hands were trembling in his lap, his clothing ruffled. There was a small tear in his shirt, Keith noticed. The subtle smell of smoke from Lance’s clothes filled the car. Keith hoped Curtis wouldn’t think it was him, and if he did, that his suspicions didn’t make it to Shiro.

Keith found himself speechless. He didn’t know what to say to Lance. He could barely process what had just happened to them, let alone what to _say_ to him. What to say to somehow make things seem okay, because it _wasn’t_ okay. _They_ weren’t okay, and it was wrong that they were tiptoeing around each other with a false sense of everything being alright the moment Shiro had woken up. 

So Keith stayed silent, chewing at his lip as he turned away from Lance to look out of his own window. The world sped by quickly, a haze of neon lights that made Keith feel as though he was in a dream. The thrumming of adrenaline through his veins and the throbbing ache on his neck told him otherwise, however.

His hand instinctively went to his throat, fingers tracing over where it had bee gripped so tightly, falling to his side where the knife had been placed, wondering how he’d gotten so _lucky._

Why had the man attacked Lance? Keith was almost certain the guy had some involvement with drugs, if the packet was anything to go by, but that could only mean that Lance was…

Keith shook his head. Lance _couldn’t_ be taking drugs. He couldn’t be getting himself into trouble because of them…could he?

It could answer why sometimes his behaviour seemed erratic, how skinny and sickly looking he’d gotten in the past couple of weeks. But _why_? Why would Lance… _How_ did he even get tied up in all of this? Did Hunk and Pidge know? Allura? They didn’t seem like the kind of people to be into that kind of scene at _all_.

But then again, Keith barely knows them. He barely knows _any_ of them.

Curtis’s car slows and Keith finds the comforting sight of the apartment building standing tall before them. He drops them haphazardly into the parking space, not locking the door. 

“Have you got your keys?” Curtis asked Keith, his face cast with dark shadows from the lack of light, dancing across his face like candlelight as the lamp outside the door flickered. 

“Yeah. Are you going back to work?” Keith asked. Curtis nodded, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Tell ‘Kashi I’ll be back in a couple of hours. You guys eat without me, just make sure to leave something for when I get back, okay?”

“Okay,” Keith nods. Usually a joke is made about how Keith and Shiro would accidentally eat everything before Shiro gets home, but instead, Curtis simply ruffles Keith’s hair and gives Lance a nod, before climbing back into his car. 

He doesn’t leave until Keith closes the door to the apartment building behind him.

Lance stays in the middle of the hall as Keith collects a couple of letters from their apartment number’s cubby hole, curling his sleeves over his palms and still avoiding Keith’s eye. 

In the artificial, ridiculously bright lights of the hall, Lance looks paler than ever. There’s a slight tremor to his hands, and Keith just wishes he knew what to do to ease his nerves. 

Keith simply sighed and placed a gentle hand on Lance’s arm as he passed. “We’ve got a lot of talking to do,” Keith mumbles, watching Lance flinch a little, his eyes lift to fall onto Keith’s neck. Keith’s hand subconsciously touched it. He wondered if the bruising had began to show yet. How was he going to explain it to Shiro and Curtis?

He pushed the thought away for now at the feeling of Lance’s arm trembling. He sighed, letting go. “First though, we’d better make sure that Shiro knows I’m not dead and get you cleaned up.”

Lance nodded, just barely, and followed Keith’s lead up the flights of stairs. Keith refrained from holding his hand or trying to make a conversation.

 

-

 

When Keith pushed open the door, his stomach rumbled at the smell of Chinese, because of _course_ Shiro took it upon himself to order from his favourite takeaway. The one they ordered from so often (because Curtis did a _lot_ of night shifts so couldn’t cook for them) that at Christmas time they often received a tin of chocolates and a Christmas card with their order. 

Though, to think of what happened just a few meters away from the restaurant had Keith shuddering a little as he slipped off his shoes. Lance did the same, still silent. Keith took a hold of Lance’s sleeve and gents tugged him into the lounge.

“Keith!” Shiro jumped up from the couch, rubbing where his prosthetic joined his arm and wincing as he started his dramatic spiel. “Get in here and come eat, I’m _starving_ and it’s taking every ounce of my willpower to wait for you. I don’t think I can hold out any-“ he trails off when he sees Lance, who was trying to hide behind Keith. It didn’t work well, considering Lance was a head taller. “L-Lance? Are you…” He trails off, giving Keith a frown. Keith turns to notice Lance isn’t looking at them, only the ground, and makes a gesture to tell Shiro that he’ll talk to him later.

“You can start, Shiro. Put a film on - a _decent_ one, not the crappy romances you always end up crying over.” Keith’s attempt at humour fell flat between the three of them. He sighed. “I’m taking Lance to the bathroom to get cleaned up.”

Shiro looks between them and nods, concern still flashing over his features. “Uh, sure. I’ll uh…crank the Netflix out.” He half-heartedly throws out some finger guns. Keith places his head in his hands. 

“You do that.”

With that, he takes Lance’s sleeve gently again and pulls him through the apartment into their bathroom. He closes the door behind him. 

“You can sit down. We have a first aid kit in here. Shiro is so clumsy it’s unbelievable. Adam and I even considered getting paper plates at one point,” Keith muttered with a chuckle, reaching on his tiptoes to try and reach the first aid kit on top of the counter. He only manages to push it further away from him and huffs. Lance is simply sitting on the edge of the bath, rubbing his arm and looking away again, a distant look in his eyes. 

Keith frowned and places his hands on his hips, climbing onto the toilet seat and grabbing onto it, tugging it down and taking a seat. He opened it up and grabbed a couple of anti-bac wipes.

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay?” Keith mumbled gently, as though he was approaching a scared animal. Lance moved his head slightly to give Keith better access. 

As Keith worked away at the blood on his face, he took a deep breath. “Lance, are you…was the money I gave you to pay for drugs?”

Keith never had a way with words. Actions were more his forte, and that was proven by the way Lance flinched at his blunt wording.

“Yes,” Lance whispered, his voice hoarse. He looked resigned, the way his glossy eyes were staring at their bathroom tiles, how his hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt, wringing and tugging at it. It was as though he had convinced himself Keith was going to reject him, to kick him away at what he had just admit.

Keith would do no such thing.

“How bad is it?”

Lance lifted his gaze a little, not quite meeting Keith’s, head tilting to the side a little in question.

“Your debt. If you couldn’t pay him back you must not…not have that much.”

Lance coughed a little. “I lost my job a couple of weeks ago and I can’t find anything else. So, pretty bad.”

“You what?” Keith whispered, pulling the cloth away from Lance’s face, trying not to notice how close they were, or how Lance’s eyes, though filled with worry and sadness and guilt, still took his breath away. “How?”

“Redundant,” Lance shrugged. “No one likes buying real books anymore, if they read them at all. Especially not on a store when they can order them online.”

“Lance, I…” Keith placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder, their noses almost touching as he looks to Lane with such pain. “I’m so sorry.”

Lance’s eyes froze over and narrowed into slits, like shards of ice. “Don’t,” his voice trembled. “Don’t pity me.”

Keith kept his mouth shut for a while, letting Lance’s cool, shallow breaths brush against his cheek. He had finished clearing off the blood a full minute ago, now, but Keith found comfort in their closeness, and he needed an excuse to ask Lance more questions, to try and understand what Lance was going through, so Keith could find a way to help him.

“What do you take?” He eventually settled on asking, admiring Lance’s freckles peppered across his nose and cheeks as he dabbed the cloth on Lance’s jaw. His gaze flickers down to Lance’s lips, chapped, which is unusual as Lance has told Keith before that he _never_ goes out the house without a chapstick. 

“Coke.” Lance’s blunt answer shattered Keith’s thoughts and he blinked. “It’s more grief than it’s worth, and I _know_ it’s killing me but…” Lance sighed. “it’s all I have left of…” He cut himself off. Keith didn’t push him to continue. 

Keith clenched his jaw, placing a hand on Lance’s knee. “There’s no pressure at all, Lance, but don’t you think it’ll be wise to get help? Even just for the debt, maybe move back in with your parents-“

“No!” Lance snaps, grabbing onto Keith’s wrist tightly. He quickly lets go and shrinks back. “No. They can’t know…I…I’d be tossed out. They wouldn’t want me anymore I…I _can’t_ , Keith, I _can’t._ ”

And Keith understands in a way Lance probably doesn’t yet know.

“What about professional help?” Keith tries.

Lance shakes his head, starting to shut down and close himself off from Keith, knee jerking Keith’s hand away as he shuffles back. Keith decides to leave it for now, putting the cloth in the bin. “I’m going to get something for your jaw. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Lance hugs himself and nods, head falling to gaze back at the ground. Keith hesitates, before leaving, clicking the door shut behind him again. 

As soon as he leaves, Shiro shoots to his feet. 

“What happened? Is he okay? Are _you_ okay?”

Shiro begins to fuss over Keith. He shrugs his brother off. “He’s okay. I just…I need something for his bruise.”

“Are you okay, Keith? You’re shaking. Let me get it for him, you sit down.” Shiro takes Keith’s shoulders and tries to steer Keith to the couch. He succeeds half-way, until Keith process what he’s doing and digs his heels into the carpet.

“No, Shiro. I’ve got to do it. He won’t want to see a stranger right now,” he mumbled, taking Shiro’s hands off his shoulders and holding them. One cool, one warm. “I’ll be fine, just a little shocked, that’s all. We’ll be out in a minute.”

Shiro hesitated, before giving in. “Okay, but we need to talk later, okay?”

Keith nods. Shiro gives him a quick hug before he takes into the kitchen, finding some frozen veg in their freezer and wrapping it in a cloth, before taking it back to the bathroom. Lance is still there, frantically wiping at his eyes. Keith pretends not to notice and simply kneels down in front of him, gently prying his hands from his face.

“Here, for your jaw.” Keith holds it up. “Can’t have your pretty face swelling up, huh? The fans would _freak_.”

A ghost of a smile flickered at Lance’s lips. Keith returned it, his cheeks flaring red when he’d realised his words.

“Come on, let’s get back into the lounge before Shiro passes out trying to wait for us to eat.”

 

-

 

Dinner was awkward, though Keith had expected it to be. 

Lance barely ate, which was understandable. He was still wound up from shock, and could barely hold his fork without it shaking. Shiro barely ate too, which Keith found himself unable to find the strength to argue about. Shiro hadn’t been eating like he should, and Curtis had been pestering him _all the time_ to eat more. It was a side effect of one of the many pills Shiro had to take, but that didn’t mean that he or Keith would let him get away with not eating.

Not only was Keith too exhausted to urge either of the two to eat anything, but his mind was reeling from what had just happened. He glanced over to Lance, who was curled up as far into the corner of the couch as he could reach, knees drawn to his chest. It was so _unlike_ him to look so withdrawn and…

_No,_ Keith realised, his stomach sinking as though the mouthful of noodles he’d just swallowed was actually lead. It wasn’t out of place to see Lance like this. He’d been withdrawing himself from his friends for a while now, and Keith was too tied up with Shiro and James, and learning songs for the tour to even notice.

He was a terrible friend. 

He still had a lot fo questions flittering around his mind that he wanted to ask Lance, but he knew he couldn’t overwhelm him. Not after the night he’d just had.

He’d tried his best to distract himself, trying his best to focus on the movie Shiro had put on, but he couldn’t focus on anything but _Lance_.

Eventually, Shiro had left the room to go to bed. Keith had ordered him to once catching Shiro almost falling asleep for the second time that evening. Shiro had grumbled under his breath something about wanting to wait until Curtis to come home, but Keith had argued about Curtis killing them both if he realised Keith allowed Shiro to fall asleep on the couch waiting for him.

When he’d left, Keith took another look at Lance. He wasn’t watching the movie, either, simply fiddling with a cigarette between his fingers.

Keith sighed, turning the TV off. “You wanna go outside so you can smoke?” He suggests. Lance startles a little, before nodding. Keith stands up, grabbing his jacket and slipping his shoes on. 

Outside, the two are encased in a spotlight-like beam from the light at the front of the apartment building. Keith watched Lance light the cigarette with shaking hands, shoulders slumping a little after he takes a drag.

Keith watches him wearily, itching to find something to say, but as usual, he found himself useless when it came to words.

Instead, he takes a deep breath before pulling Lance into a hug. Lance tenses, for a second, before hugging Keith back awkwardly with one arm, the other holding the cigarette far away so he didn’t get ash on Keith’s clothes.

Keith wouldn’t care if he did.

“Keith, are you okay? Sendak can, uh, he can get pretty scary if you get on his bad side,” Lance mumbled, resting his chin on Keith’s head. 

“Scary?” Keith scoffed, “more like _terrifying_. But don’t worry, I’m fine,” he mutters trough grit teeth. “It’s more important that I should be asking _you_ that question.”

Lance shakes his head a little. Keith tightens his grip.

“Have you told anyone else about this? Does anyone else know?”

“Only you,” Lance mumbled, “and Nyma.”

“Nyma?” Keith frowned, pulling away only slightly, but not letting go of Lance, to look up at him. “Who’s she?”

Lance freezes, and it’s clear he slipped up. He lets out a sigh, looking to Keith’s bike. “You think we could go out for a ride?”

It’s Keith’s turn to seize up, the distant screech of tires on tarmac echoing in the back of his conscience the moment his eyes fall on it. “I-I uh…”

Keith’s saving grace comes in the form of Curtis’s car pulling up into the drive. Keith gives him a small wave. Lance stubs out his cigarette.

“Maybe another time,” Keith decides. He knows that if he opened up to Lance, Lance would most likely open up to him, and he’d be able to get his head around this mess and maybe even help him…but Keith wasn’t ready for that, and so, as always, he ran away from the situation. “Lance, please stay round ours for the night. You can sleep in my room. I’ll take the couch for tonight.”

“No, you won’t,” came Curtis’s voice, slapping a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’ll take the couch, you go camp down with your brother tonight, I’m not sleeping yet, anyway.”

If there was one thing Keith had learned when patching things together with Curtis, was that there was no arguing with him, especially where Keith and Shiro were concerned. With a defeated sigh, he muttered a ‘fine, but don’t expect me to get much sleep, he _snores’_ , before leading Lance back upstairs.

He takes Lance into his room. Lance’s nose crinkles at the sight of the clothes and CDs strewn across the floor, and the countless sheets of paper littering his desk. 

“In my defence, Curtis is such a neat-freak that I spend all my time tidying the rest of the apartment so I have no time to tidy my own room,” Keith tries to make a meagre excuse.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Lance muttered, a twitch of the corner of his lips. “It’s very…you. I like it.”

“I guess,” Keith frowned a little, because the room was mostly plain, apart from the mess, of course. Sure, there was a photo of him and Shiro and Adam on the bedside table, and his apple-red guitar sitting in the corner, but that was the only insight to his life. The rest was hidden. 

“I’ll see if I can sneak some of Shiro’s clothes out for you,” Keith decides, quickly rushing out the room. As soon as he does, Curtis stops him.

“Keith, can we talk real quick?”

Keith nodded, letting Curtis drag him into the kitchen, away from his room so Lance didn’t listen in. 

Keith took a seat on the kitchen counter. Curtis folded his arms. In his uniform, he looked twice as intimidating as usual. Keith swallowed, feeling nerves start to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

“Are you okay?” He starts, and Keith nods, shrugging it off with a ‘I’m fine.’ “What happened?”

“I said, some drunk guy was giving Lance some hassle.”

For a split second, disappointment flashed over Curtis’s features and Keith felt a dull stab of pain.

“Okay. Goodnight, Keith,” Curtis says shortly. Keith frowns and watches him leave. Eventually, he passes into Shiro’s room. Keith tries to ease his way into the bed, careful not to wake Shiro. Visions of when they were still living with Shiro’s mother, when Keith used to be plagued with vicious nightmares came tumbling back to him. Of how he’d sneak into Shiro’s room and Shiro would just lift the covers with one arm for Keith to burrow under, feeling safe and secure, and he’d be able to sleep without anymore memories haunting him for the rest of the night. 

The cover soon comes up, and Shiro cracks open an eye, giving Keith a soft smile. Keith eases his way in, and Shiro pulls the covers over Keith.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Keith?” Shiro asked, with such a softness that Keith couldn’t bring himself to lie. Slowly, he shook his head, feeling tears begin to dribble down his cheeks as an arm pulls itself around him and tugs him close. He takes in the familiar smell that was _Shiro,_ of sugary coffee and whatever musky cologne he had, that he’d worn since Keith had met him. It was the smell of _home_ , and Keith took a deep, shuddering breath, as Shiro shushed him and rubbed his back, just like he used to when Keith had suffered a nightmare.

And Keith wished that all of this was just that. That tomorrow, he’d wake up, and everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poor boys can't catch a break smh. We need a beach episode stat. (That probably won't happen. Making characters suffer is what I do best).
> 
> Also, I'm doing as much research as I can into cocaine, but fortunately I have not had any experience with it (or any other drug) or know anyone who has, so if anyone notices I get something wrong or explain something wrong, please let me know so I can learn! There's only so much I can read on the internet, but I'm trying my best! <3
> 
> As always thank you for all the comments and kudos, it always makes my day 100% better. :')


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sober Keith would probably punch drunk Keith as he muttered a: “because I killed someone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic attack. (Also, I'm sure everyone already knows this but please don't throw water over someone who's having a panic attack/nightmare - Keith panicked.)
> 
> Happy belated birthday, Lance!! I apologise for 99.9% of the shit I put you through in this fic.

Keith had woken, that morning, to an elbow in the face. He’d rolled to the side with a groan, clutching onto his throbbing jaw, expecting to fall off of his single bed to jerk himself awake enough to figure out exactly _what_ had attacked him, _what_ was the writhing mess of sheets and fearful grunts next to him.

Instead, he met more bed, his head falling between the crevice of two pillows. The realisation he wasn’t in his room was enough to cause him to bolt awake, and he’d realised from the sight of the record player and house-plants on the desk that he was in Shiro and Curtis’s room. He rubbed his cheek, looking to where Shiro lay next to him, tossing and turning, brow creased. A slit of sunlight cutting through the curtains slashed across Shiro’s face, illuminating the tears running down his cheeks. 

“Shit, Shiro?” Keith shook him, only to get another slap. “Come on, Shiro, it’s okay. It’s just a dream!” He shook Shiro more firmly, to no result. In a panic, he grabbed the glass of water by the carefully set out cup of pills (Curtis must have set it there at some point this morning - the water was still cold), and throwing it over Shiro.

He woke with a cry, bolting upright, his chest falling and rising heavily as he panted, water dripping and merging with the tears falling down his cheeks. 

Shiro looked to Keith, and for a second his expression shifted to one of stone, trying to push back the oncoming tide of emotions, but to no use; the dam broke and Shiro burst into tears, clutching onto Keith tightly.

Keith found himself yet again at a loss of what to do. He held onto Shiro just as tightly, rocking him gently. 

Curtis must have heard the racket, rushing into the room and freezing. He let out a sigh, before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, next to Keith, and weaving his hand through Shiro’s hair.

“‘Kashi, can you hear me? What can you see?” Curtis asked, and Keith was going to snap at the man for tugging on Shiro’s hair a little, until he realised it was helping to ground Shiro. 

Shiro’s eyes slowly, hesitantly opened, looking to Keith, then to Curtis, though he didn’t seem fully there, like what he was seeing wasn’t _really_ them. Keith felt an ache form in his chest.

Curtis smiled a little. “What can you _see_ , Kashi?” He repeated, hand moving to rub Shiro’s flesh-arm. 

Shiro’s voice trembled as he spoke: “I see you, I see K-Keith, our bed…our door…Curtis, this is-“

“And what can you feel?” Curtis cut through, and Keith watched in wonder as slowly, Shiro came back from whatever tormented world he was trapped in within his nightmares, and recited off things he could see, feel, hear, all to Curtis, who was praising him with every word.

Eventually, Shiro’s grip loosened on Keith, and the dull ache left behind was the only thing that made Keith realise how tightly he’d been holding on.

“There we go. Everything’s okay, ‘Kashi. You did so well.” Curtis planted a kiss on Shiro’s nose. “Let’s get you changed. Keith, could you get him another glass of water for his pills?”

The way Curtis talked was so methodical, as though this had happened before. Keith nodded, mouthing to Curtis that they needed to talk later, because this was the first he’d seen of Shiro acting like this, and no one had told him. 

Once he reached the kitchen, he grabbed a glass of water, hesitating outside his door on his way back to Shiro’s room. Keith lifted a fist to knock, before lowering it, and walking back to Shiro’s room. He softly knocked on the door, and Curtis answered, taking the water and thanking him quietly. 

His eyes widened when they fell onto Keith’s neck. He opens his mouth to speak, but his eyes glance back at Shiro, who’s sitting shirtless on the bed, hugging onto what seemed to be Curtis’s hoodie. 

“We’ll talk after breakfast,” is all he said, eyes darkening before he turned back to Shiro’s room. Keith hesitated, biting his lip as his hand drifted to his neck, before stepping back to his own room. He finally found the guts to knock, though there was no answer. 

He tried again “Lance?” He mumbled. “Lance, are you awake?”

The flat was completely silent save for the distant mumble of Curtis from the room next door.

“Lance, I’m gonna open this door. If you don’t say anything I’m gonna assume you’re decent,” Keith muttered, hesitating for a few seconds, before pushing open the door. 

His empty bed was neatly made, so out of place amongst the mess of his room. 

_Empty._

__

Lance was gone.

 

-

 

_“Hey, you’ve had the pleasure of getting Lance’s phone number. Unfortunately I’m busy at the moment but don’t worry, gorgeous, I’ll get back to you soon! No one could keep me away from you!”_

Keith was sick of the sound of dial tones, of Lance and his stupid automated message. Keith was simply just sick of life, sick to his stomach because everyone around him seemed to be suffering, and yet he had no idea how to _fix_ it. Any of it.

After the next round of rings sent Keith back to Lance’s automated message _again_ , Keith decided to leave Lance a message. “Hey, dumbass, it’s rude to just sneak out of someone’s house when they invited you to stay for the night,” Keith spat, before sighing. “Look, I’m just worried. Especially after last night. Please, call me back?”

Just as he finished, Shiro shuffled into the room, Curtis following closely behind. Shiro slumped into a chair opposite Keith, his hair still ragged, dark bags weighing down under his eyes.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Keith,” Shiro mumbled, guilt dripping from his tone as he threaded his fingers together.

“Don’t apologise - it’s not your fault,” Keith mumbled, hearing the kettle begin to hiss as Curtis takes out three mugs. His hand hovers over a fourth.

“Is Lance still here?” Curtis asked.

“No,” Keith mumbled. “He left.”

“Good.” Curtis pours out three cups of coffee, handing Keith and Shiro one each before taking his own. “Because we need to talk.”

Curtis doesn’t sit down, he stays standing over Keith and Shiro. Keith grits his teeth, grip tightening on the mug. 

“About what?”

“About the exact reason _why_ you ended up coming home last night completely covered in bruises?” Shiro questioned.

“I already told you,” Keith mumbled, averting Shiro’s eye, because if he kept eye contact, Shiro would _know_ Keith was lying. “Lance had some trouble with some drunk guy down the street. That’s all there is to it.”

“But _why_ did he start on Lance, Keith? He wouldn’t have attacked if he wasn’t provoked,” Curtis mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee.

“What were you even doing out that late?” Shiro continued. Keith’s fist clenched. “Were you sleeping around again? Is that why you have those bruises on your neck?”

“No!” Keith shuddered, lifting to his feet. His chair screeched against the tile, making all three flinch. Slowly, he backed away. “I was with James - I haven’t…I wouldn’t…not since…” Keith’s gaze fell to Shiro’s prosthetic.

“Do you not learn?!” Shiro snapped, ignoring Keith’s quiet denials. “Look where the last time you slept with someone got us?! Was that not enough?! I _lost my arm,_ Keith!” Shiro’s crying, now. Keith knows he’s not to far behind, his heart hammering and eyes stinging. His throat aches, and he just wants to _get out._

“I _know_ it was my fault!” Keith snapped. “And I’m sorry! I’m sorry I always fuck things up for you - I’m sorry I killed Adam, and I’m sorry I almost killed you!”  


Shiro’s eyes widened, all anger draining from his features. He turns pale. Curtis almost chokes. 

“Keith, wait-“ It’s Curtis who steps forward, but Keith is already running for the door. 

“Don’t expect to see me tonight,” Keith growls, slamming the door in Curtis’s face. He barely makes it outside the building before he’s sinking down against the wall, sobbing into his hands. He almost misses the sound of his phone ringing, and he picks it up only to toss it away, not even looking at the I.D. Whether it was Lance, or Shiro, or Curtis, or even James, he didn’t care. He just wanted to be _alone._

 

-

 

Despite wanting to be alone, after a couple of hours of running aimlessly through the streets (and almost getting run over twice), he found himself in James’s apartment. James was silent, flicking pages of a book he clearly wasn’t reading, whilst Keith hugged a pillow and pretended to watch whatever Ryan had left on the TV before leaving for work. 

When Keith had arrived, James had merely waved with only a quick glance up. It had turned into a second glance, and a gasp, and Keith’s hand quickly scrubbed away the tears. He’d slumped on the other end of the couch soon afterwards. Ryan had quickly left the room muttering something about needing to get groceries, though Keith had known from past experience he was really just making an excuse to go out to give them both space.

James hadn’t forced Keith to talk about it, but had given him that disapproving look he gets when Keith is withholding ‘important’ information.

They were completely silent save the nauseating mechanical laughter coming from the TV. Keith hadn’t even said hello to James upon entering; they’d simply hugged and then gone to their respectable brooding. 

Eventually, James sighed and stretched out his legs, his toes tapping Keith’s thigh to get his attention as he set his book on the arm of the chair. “So, what happened?”

James knew everything about Keith, sometimes before Keith knew it himself. When Keith had sworn to secrecy about Shiro buying a ring for Adam, Keith had still told James. When Adam had made Keith hide the VIP tickets he’d bought for him and Shiro to see Shiro’s favourite band - his _heroes_ , Keith had showed James, even though he’d promised not to tell _anyone._ Everyone who knew Keith knew that when they shared a secret with him, they’d be sharing it with James as well, and vice versa. 

So, when Keith found himself explaining his argument with Shiro and Curtis, he wondered why he strictly avoided the main problem - the main, blue-eyed, _Lance_ shaped problem. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith mumbled, after spewing out everything to James, who’d somehow managed to sneak up on Keith, curling up into his side and running his hands through Keith’s hair comfortingly. “You have so much more on your mind right now, and here I am adding to it.”

“It’s fine, Keith,” James smiled. “You can’t just pick and choose when you’re sad. We can be sad at the same time, y’know?”

Keith merely hummed, hugging his knees closer to his chest. James sent Keith a small smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. “When do you start work?”

Keith checked the time and jumped to his feet. “In twenty minutes - fuck, I’m gonna be late!”

“It’s okay, I’ll drive you,” James smiled. “But first, let me cover up those bruises for you?”

Keith let James drag him into his bedroom, sitting down while he rooted through his neatly organised draws to pull out his small makeup bag. 

He watched James’s face grow more and more concerned with each bruise he covered, but he didn’t ask questions, knowing that Keith wouldn’t appreciate them.

 

-

 

It wasn’t until Keith was waving Matt home. Just after he’d come off his break, that the bell tolled, and Matt exclaimed a ‘hi Lance! Bye, Lance!’

Keith’s head darts up from the counter, for a second only fury swarming in his gut. He stepped out from the counter and shoved Lance back into the shelves.

“You!” Keith snarled. “Do you realise how _worried_ I was when I woke up to find you were gone?!”

Instead of instantly jumping to his own defence, like Keith had first thought, Lance simply shrunk into himself a little. “I-I’m sorry.”

His words instantly staunched the fire in Keith’s heart and calmed the anger bubbling through his veins. If it were a few months ago, when a simple word from Shiro had completely sucked all anger from him, he’d push, and push, act as though the fire had been drenched in gasoline, pretend that he’d burst into uncontrollable fury, because he used to be _scared._ Scared of what was beneath the anger - scared of the sadness, the _fear._

Keith couldn’t handle those emotions - he didn’t know how to deal with them. Anger was easier to deal with, and so he faked it, forced it to return so he could ignore the emotions suffocating him. 

He was exhausted of faking, though. He was tired of pretending all the time. So instead, he too deflated, and simply mumbled an: “it’s okay.”

“Also, I uh, I’m going to pay you back for…for the drugs. I’m sorry you had to do that,” Lance whispered the last part, even though they were alone in the store.

Keith wanted to say that he didn’t need to do that, that he would have paid double, triple - _any_ amount of money just to know that Lance had only come out of the situation with a bruise on his jaw. 

Instead, he simply stayed silent, because he _knew_ that money was money to pay their rent, so that Curtis could concentrate on all their other necessities ad Shiro’s skyrocketing health insurance. Keith was so _scared_ to tell them that he wouldn’t be able to pay this month. Curtis would be forced to do even more overtime than he already was to try and cover the mess Keith had made. 

He was always making such a _mess_ of things.

“Please don’t worry about me, Keith,” Lance mumbled, placing a hand in Keith’s. “I’m fine.”

Keith found himself holding tightly onto Lance, worried that he’d leave.

“So, are you looking for a new job?” Keith asked, and maybe it wasn’t the best subject to change to in an attempt to get Lance to stay, but, well, Keith wasn’t good with words. 

“Obviously,” Lance took the prompt and ran with it, clearly not wanting to linger on the subject anymore either. “Nowhere seems to want me, though, I hand in my resume and I don’t even get called in for an _interview._ I’m just glad we’re going on tour soon, that should at least handle some rent.”

Keith smiled. “Yeah, and that’s if we don’t spend more money on repairs than-“

“Don’t. Last time we toured our van broke down and it ended up costing us more money than we made.” Lance shook his head with a sigh. “It shouldn’t happen again, though. We learnt our lesson not to rent a cheap van from one of Coran’s friends.”

Keith chuckled a little. “Well, if you’re looking for a job,” he mumbled, taking the rota from under the counter. There were a few spots which are understaffed - some of which were just Keith for the whole day on his own, covering for two different people. “We have plenty of space for you to join us. I mean, with Shiro still not here we were already kinda under, and now Regris’s gone to work with a venue for a week, we have even more space opened up.”

“You mean you’d…” Lance trailed off, eyes widening. “Really?”

Keith nodded. “You can help me out today and I’ll get you trained up on the till and all the products we have. I’ll put you on with me tomorrow then you can work with Antok on Friday?” Keith suggested, chewing on the end of his pencil in thought.

“Are-Are you sure I can-“

“I’d much rather hire you, knowing you’d do a good job - and if you didn’t I’d be able to kick your ass,” he muttered, earning a small push and a ‘hey!’ “Than someone who I _don’t_ know, who could either leave after a couple of weeks or be a shit worker.”

Lance hesitates, before Keith finds himself scooped up into a hug, being pulled so tightly he ends up on his tiptoes. His cheeks flush red.

“Thank you.”

Keith pats Lance’s back a little. “Alright, let me write you in. Then we’d better get to teaching you how to run the shop.”

 

-

 

At the end of the day, Lance knew roughly his way around the shop. Keith closed up, and they left, but they didn’t head their usual ways. Neither had any intention of going home just yet. Lance didn’t want to succumb to the loneliness of his flat, and Keith didn’t want to confront Shiro or Curtis on their argument earlier. So, Keith decided to feed his nostalgia and stopped at a corner store to buy a pack of beer, while Lance eyed up the candy. 

(Keith eventually bought some of that, too, managing to find the right coins hiding in the bottom of his wallet.)

Keith lead Lance to the park, where they sat under his and James’s tree. The cool night breeze soothed any fire that still sparked in Keith’s chest from the argument this morning, the moonlight bathing them in a silver glow, glinting against the glass of their bottles as they drank and bitched about the shortcomings of life. 

What had become an intense (and on Lance’s side, rather animated) debate on what inanimate object could do a better job at being their president than what was currently residing in the white house, became Lance resting his head on Keith’s shoulder, lazily drawing circles with his thumb against Keith’s palm, as he reminisced the feeling of sand between his toes back at his mother’s hometown’s beach. 

Keith’s had brain didn’t register exactly what Lance was doing until it was too late, and he’d decided he’d liked the contact, so didn’t move.

Lance let out a long sigh, his cool breath brushing against Keith’s cheek, shuffling to lean onto him more heavily. Lance’s hair tickled Keith’s nose, and he tries his best not to sneeze, worried that the slightest sound would break whatever calm daze Lance was currently in. 

Instead, it was Lance that shattered Keith’s calm, his hushed voice muttering a: “why don’t you ride your bike anymore?”

If Keith wasn’t influenced by alcohol, maybe he’d have attempted to run again, but Lance was warm and Keith was cold, and his arm was numb from Lance leaning against him, and so he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Sober Keith would probably punch drunk Keith as he muttered a: “because I killed someone.”

Lance shot up so quickly he crashed his head into Keith’s jaw. Keith grunted. 

“You _what_?!”

“I…” Keith trailed off, closing his eyes as he tried to will the nausea crawling in his stomach away. “I was with Adam. I’d not long passed my test and he said I could take his bike out for a ride with him,” Keith mumbled. “We were driving around town at night, and it was great. It felt…It felt like we were flying, with the breeze and all the lights rushing past us…” Keith trailed off, and he blinked. He wasn’t in the park anymore, but riding through the streets at high speed. He could hear the sound of screeching tires, the sound of Adam shouting as he gripped onto the handlebars, almost crushing Keith’s fingers with how tightly he gripped onto Keith’s hands and pulled them out of the way of a car speeding in the wrong direction. 

The bike had swerved at such a speed, and yet it still wasn’t quick enough. The back half of the bike smashed against the front of the car, and Keith remembered the lights spinning, him feeling the hands lead his and the weight pressing against his back lift. He remembered the smell of burning rubber and smoke searing his nostrils, the sound of metal scraping against tarmac, the rawness of his throat as he screamed, the pain shooting up his body as he smacked to the ground. 

He remembered the blur of the red and blue, then waking in the hospital room to blinding white lights and the heartbreaking sound of Shiro uncontrollably sobbing into Keith’s chest, James gripping onto his hand so tightly it _hurt._ The doctor - the _doctor_ as he tried to tell Shiro that his husband hadn’t made it through surgery.

Keith took a deep breath, heart hammering against his chest. Lance waited patiently. At some point, his hand had found Keith’s, and it was grounding. Keith focused on the feeling of Lance’s calloused thumb rubbing circles into the back of his hand, remembering to breathe. 

“We crashed. He didn’t make it,” he mumbled with a hoarse voice, and it wasn’t until Lance used his sleeve to wipe away Keith’s tears, that he realised he was _crying_ , silent sobs falling from his lips.

“And you…believe you killed him?” Lance asked, a single tear trickling down his own cheek. Keith nodded.

Lance pulled him into a hug. “I won’t tell you it wasn’t your fault, even though it _wasn’t_ , because I’m sure you’re sick of hearing it from everyone else.”

Keith nodded into Lance’s chest. Lance pulled away and smiled a little. 

For a while, they simply held each other. Keith savoured the feeling of Lance’s arms around him, listening to the gentle thud of his heart and feeling his soothing breath ruffling his hair. Eventually, he decides to ask a question that’s been burning his mind since he’d found out about Lance’s addiction.

“Why do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Destroy yourself.”

Lance hesitates, and his heartbeat quickens just slightly.

“it’s hard to destroy yourself when you’re already ruined,” is all Lance says, tightening his grip on Keith. “I just…it’s all I have left of her.”

“Of who?”

“Nyma. I love…I _loved_ her. She was the one who got me into it - it was just a casual thing, but then…then she left, and it hurt so much, and she took everything away from me and I had nothing left of her apart from the drugs she got me into so I…” Lance buried his head into Keith’s shoulder. “I got hooked because it reminded me of her. Of us.”

It was fitting, Keith had thought, that Lance had likened her to such a thing. She was addicting, and obviously Lance had loved her, but ultimately, she was toxic to him…She was _killing_ Lance.

“Why did she leave you?”

Lance had began to play with Keith’s hair, his fingers trembling. “You remember when Hunk mentioned we used to have another guitarist, before you?” Keith nodded. “His name was Rolo. We were good friends, met in highschool. He was his best friend - that’s how we met. I made a dick out of myself trying to flirt with her but…somehow she stuck around, and I managed to ask her out. Rolo had told me she liked me back, so I’d finally taken the step and…We dated for a good few years. We fooled around with drugs together after shows and uh,” Lance sighed. “My family loved her. Especially my Papa, he was so proud of me for settling down with someone…they were already planning the wedding.” 

Keith sniggered. Lance laughed too.

“No, seriously, Mama already decided we were gonna get married on her hometown beach. She was gonna make the cake and the flower bouquets and-“ Lance cut himself off. “I caught Rolo and her in our bed. They uh…they slept together. Had been for a few months.” Lance shuddered, his grip on Keith tightening. “He ran and left us to pick up the pieces. We argued. I wanted to try and fix things, I was so desperate - I didn’t want to be left alone, but she said she hated me because I was clingy, and annoying, and so desperate to fit in I’d do anything she said and-“

“And?” Keith looked up. It was his turn to wipe Lance’s tears away.

“And I kicked her out. I was so angry - next time I saw Rolo I punched him in the face and kicked him out of the band. I haven’t seen either of them around since but…I’m glad. If I saw them together and happy I’d…” Lance buries his face into his hands. “I’d be _happy_ , which is wrong because they literally _ruined_ my life. I’m broke because I’m hooked on the drugs she gave me and it’s destroying me and I _can’t_ even accept my feelings for _you_ because she’s hurt me so much I’m constantly terrified I’m gonna get hurt again and-“

Lance cuts himself off with a gasp, burying his head into his hands again as he tries to get to his feet. “I’m sorry. I’m making this all about me again, I should go-“

“No.” Keith tightened his grip on Lance, his mind reeling after what Lance had said. _I can’t even accept my feelings for_ ** _you_** _…_

Lance looked at him with those wide blue eyes, like a rippling sea flecked with starlight. Moonlight splashed across his face, the tear tracks glistening against his cheeks. 

_Beautiful._

Keith’s thumb traced across the constellations of Lance’s cheeks, wiping away the tears. He leaned closer, could feel Lance’s breath shudder against his face. “Stay, please.”

Lance stayed.

Keith held actions above words. He relies on instinct. And yet, he still asked, in a hushed tone: “Can I kiss you?” As his thumb traced over Lance’s lips.

Lance said nothing, his hand tightening in Keith’s hair as he pulled him forwards. Their lips locked together, the bitter taste of alcohol clashing with the sweetness of the candy.

Lance’s hand continued to card through Keith’s hair, and Keith’s hand remained on Lance’s cheek. Keith’s chest filled with warmth, despite the cool breeze brushing through their hair.

And as they kissed, and kissed, and kissed, the sounds of birds waking filled the park, the soft glow of reds and oranges igniting and fighting the darkness that surrounded the two boys, warding off the coldness of the night. 

Finally, they’d pulled away, and Keith could feel his chest fluttering and tingling in a way he’d never felt before. He went to kiss Lance again, not wanting to let the feeling fade, but Lance stopped him with a gentle finger to his lips. 

“It’s late - or early. We should, uh, get home,” once mumbled, and in that moment, Keith felt all joy radiating around him crash onto the ground. Lance smiled a little. “Besides, even though I’m enjoying myself we kinda can’t sit in the park doing this forever. We have band practise later and Allura will murder us both if we don’t turn up when we’re going on tour so soon.”

Keith nodded, though he was reluctant to return home. He was too tied up with emotions to even think about sleeping, anyway.

Lance too was reluctant to return to his home alone, and so, he tapped Keith’s nose and winked. “Do you want to come round mine?”

Keith flushed pinker than ever, and Lance realised the context of his words. “Just to sleep! It’s a quicker walk to mine than yours and - shit, Keith, you know what I mean!” He pushed Keith, and they burst into nervous giggles.

And so they walked home together, cheeks as pink as the sunrise behind them. 

 

-

 

Keith wakes to the gentle sound of snoring, and Amy Winehouse filtering through the silence. Lance’s phone screen flashed and illuminated the room with a new call. Keith would move to at least see who was calling Lance, so he could deem whether it’s important enough to wake Lance or not, but he’s trapped under two strong arms, cradling him tightly as Keith lies with his head on Lance’s chest.

His head pounds, but he still remembers last night, and buries himself further into Lance, cheeks bunching up as he smiled. _James lost his bet,_ Keith thought to himself.

A hand cards through his hair and he jolts. Lance chuckles. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice gruff with sleep. 

They sat in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s embrace, until Keith’s mind started to inevitably overwork, wondering if Lance remembered last night. He hadn’t mentioned it - was it a mistake? Did Lance not actually like him? Was he taking advantage of Lance because he was upset?

“Lance?” Keith looked up to the man, who’s adoring blue eyes squinted as he smiled.

“Yeah?”

“About last night, are we…you know…” Keith trailed off.

“Do you want to?” Lance looked worried. “We don’t have to but uh, I mean…”

“No, I do,” Keith nodded. “Do you?”

Lance hesitated. “I, uh…Yeah,” he mumbled, less enthusiastically. Keith parted himself from Lance, frowning. 

“You don’t sound so convincing,” Keith muttered, unable to hide the hurt in his tone.

“No, no, Keith, I _do_ , I really do,” Lance placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I just…Nyma she…she _really_ hurt, like…Like tore out my heart and stamped on it kinda hurt. I just…I know you’re not like that, but after being hurt before I can’t help but-“

“I won’t hurt you,” Keith promised, weaving his fingers through Lance’s. “I don’t know what I need to do to convince you that I’m not like her, but whatever it is, I’m prepared to do it. Just say the words.”

“It…It’ll take some getting used to…I’m sorry, I’ll probably be more trouble than I’m worth-“

“Lance,” Keith hushed him. “Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I’m willing to wait, okay? I understand it’s hard, but I _promise_ I’ll do anything I can for you to realise that I’m not her. I never will do anything to hurt you.”

“I know you’re not, Keith. Thank you,” Lance mumbled, a small smile, leaning forwards to kiss Keith again.

Just before their lips met, Lance’s phone rang again. Lance sighed, his hand slapping onto his phone to lift it to his ear.

“‘ello?” He pulls Keith to lie back down on him. Keith plays with a loose thread on Lance’s pyjama top, listening to the muffled murmur on the other side.

“Hi, Lance!” It’s Allura, her tone clipped. “It’s good to see that you’re alive, considering you were meant to be at practise _two hours_ ago.”

Lance jolts up and Keith lets out a squeak in surprise, being catapulted up with him.

There’s silence from Allura’s side, before she says quietly: “is that _Keith_?”

“Uh…” Lance trailed off, eyes falling to Keith, panic flickering across them. “No?”

Even Keith can hear Pidge’s laughter.

“I don’t even want to hear it,” Allura tutted. “Just…get yourselves here. Tour is in _three weeks_!”

“Yes boss,” Lance muttered, mock saluting before putting the phone down. “Ugh. Today is _not_ gonna be the day. A hangover _and_ having to deal with Pidge? Tragic.”

 

-

 

When Lance drops Keith back at home, he wishes him luck on approaching Shiro. Curtis’s space was vacant, at least, so it meant either Keith had time to prepare before they both came home, or was able to just speak to Shiro privately before opening up to Curtis as well. 

Keith tapped his cheek where Lance’s lips had once been, before pushing open the door to his apartment. All was silent, and Keith began to think Shiro had gone out with Curtis, until-

“Keith?!”

Shiro rounds the corner so quickly his socks skid against the wooden floor, and he almost crashes into the wall. “Are you okay? Oh my god, I’m so, _so_ sorry for last night, I-“

Keith cut through: “no, I’m sorry. I lost my cool when all you guys were doing was trying to help. That was wrong of me. I, uh, I’m fine. I stayed round Lance’s…we…uh…” Keith shuffled. “We’re a thing, now.”

Shiro paused. “You mean, like a one time thing, or a _thing_ thing,” Shiro asked, and if Keith wasn’t his brother, he’d probably not understand a word from Shiro’s mouth. But he did.

“We kissed. We’re uh…still deciding where to go on a date.”

Shiro beamed and pulled Keith into a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you! I _knew_ you and Lance had something going on - you’ve gotta invite him round for dinner again! In better circumstances, of course.”

Keith chuckled, prying himself out of Shiro’s smothering grip. “I think I’ll take him out on a proper date first. I don’t wanna overwhelm him, or for you to scare him away.”

“Hey!” Shiro gently punched Keith’s arm, before ruffling his hair with a smile. “I’m glad you’re happy.” It fell a little. “But, we need to talk. About what we spoke about last night.”

Keith took a deep breath. “Okay. But can I talk to just you first? I love Curtis but…I’d just feel more comfortable talking to you alone, first.”

“Of course. He’s shopping right now, I’ll get him to take a detour. Go make some tea, I’ll call him.”

Keith nodded. Making tea for him and Shiro gave him the chance to collect his thoughts and his words, and finally, when Shiro came back to sit down, Keith had found what he needed to say. As Keith set the mug down in front of Shiro and sat opposite him with his own, he took a deep breath. Shiro gave him a supportive smile, reaching across to hold his hand and give it a squeeze.

“I think…I need to tell you what happened last night. When you crashed.”

 

-

 

Lance idly ran his fingers through Blue’s fur, his lips tugged into a small smile as he dialled his Mama’s number. He was _so excited_ to tell her the news. For once, his heavy chest felt lighter, like Keith had lifted some of the weight he was bearing. What with Keith knowing about Nyma, about the drugs…the kiss between them both, he no longer felt so alone. He felt like Keith was there, by his side, and he just hoped he wouldn’t leave.

He couldn’t imagine Keith doing such a thing - not when he’s stuck by him for so long, but Lance can’t help but think that was exactly what he’d thought when he’d first gotten with Nyma.

This was different, though, _Keith_ was different, right?

“Lance? Honey?” His mother’s voice crackles through the speakers. Lance smiles. 

“Hey, Mama! How are you?”

“I’m good. Can I call you back? I’m a bit busy right now,” she asked quietly, and Lance’s teeth grit, and he felt the happiness in his chest deflate, her words like a needle to a balloon.

“It’s important, Mama! It’s good news!” He tries, though his voice now lacked the enthusiasm it once had.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’ll call you alter. You can tell me all about it then,” she mumbled, her voice sounding distant.

Lance stopped petting Blue. 

“O-Oh. Okay. It’s okay. It’s nothing important, anyway,” Lance backtracked.

“Okay, well have a good evening! I love you!”

The line cut dead, and Lance sighed, flopping back and putting an arm over his eyes, trying to ignore the itching and crawling under his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if I accidentally switched tenses more than usual - it's my weakness and I was very tired when editing this! I think I managed to sort most of it out, but I'll reread it later and fix anything I didn't catch out, haha.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith looked as though he didn’t entirely believe Lance, a small frown creased across his features, but eventually he smiled. To Lance’s dismay, Keith had hope. Hope that Lance would listen to him, would get help, would heal. 
> 
> Lance knew he was going to _crush _that hope, eventually.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone order some langst? No? ...Oops.
> 
> Lance has some pretty dark thoughts in this chapter, please be careful <3
> 
> Also, sorry this is shorter than usual! This chapter just didn't want to be written apparently, haha.
> 
> And finally - THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 2K HITS!!! I am blown away, thank you all so much for reading this little story of mine :')

“So, I’ve started going to therapy.”

Lance’s hand froze, fingers stuck in ebony locks of hair. They were in Keith’s apartment, a low-quality conspiracy theory video Keith just _had_ to watch playing in the background. The distorted voice continued reading out facts as grainy stock-photos flashed across the screen.

Lance tore his eyes away from a particularly chilling image to look down at Keith, who was lying with his head on Lance’s chest eyes staring intently at the screen, though it was clear he was no longer watching it. 

He wasn’t too sure how to react. Sure, he was _happy_ for Keith taking the step forward to get help, but it also unsettled him that Keith _needed_ the help in the first place.

“That’s good,” Lance settled on, his voice hoarse. He should probably take a drink - his cup was rested on the coffee table, half-empty, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to move Keith.   

Keith nodded. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not - and it’s hard, but Shiro’s speaking to her as well, and it’s working for him, so…” Keith trailed off. 

“Is it working for you?” Lance asked.

“I mean, kinda? I had my third session yesterday - they’re not getting any easier, and Curtis still has to practically carry me into the waiting room, but…” Keith sighed. “I _hope_ it’s working.” 

Lance hummed, fingers resuming to running through Keith’s hair. 

“I just hate that now we’ve got another load of bills to pay for, as though Shiro’s aren’t enough,” Keith muttered with a sigh. “Curtis tries to hide it from us both, but I can see how stressed out he is trying to organise our bills and stuff and…I’ve _tried_ to get him to let me sort it, but he won’t let me.” Keith sighed. “He’s just taken a load of overtime shifts, and I saw him trying to look for a part-time job the other day and I just…” Keith raised his hands uselessly. “I feel like it’s all my fault. _I_ was the reason Shiro crashed, and now _I’m_ having to go to therapy and causing another set of bills we can’t afford.” 

“Keith-“ Lance begins, wanting to reassure him that it _isn’t_ his fault, that he’s sure Shiro and Curtis value Keith’s health far more than any amount of money, but Keith cuts him off.

“I think you should go.”

Lance accidentally pulled Keith’s hair. Keith winces, hand locking onto Lance’s and pulling it away from his head and to his chest.

“What-what do you mean?” Lance feigns stupidity. If Keith noticed, he didn’t let it show.

“To therapy. Rehab,” he mumbled, the second part coming quieter as he fiddled with Lance’s fingers nervously. 

Lance’s throat had become sandpaper. He lifted up, causing Keith to sit up and pull out of his grip to give him space, resuming to the corner of the couch a small distance away. 

Lance chugged down his lemonade, partially to ease the dryness in his throat, partially to delay his answer. Keith waited patiently, his gaze solid from over his knees that he’d hugged close to his chest. He wasn’t going to let Lance avoid the subject, the much was clear. 

“I…” Lance trails off, fingers tapping nervously on the glass. Keith waits. “I know. But I’m not ready yet. I promise I will, just…” Lance pushed Keith’s knees back down and grabbed onto his hands. “After tour? It’s coming up so soon that there’s no point in starting now. I’d go to one session then take a few weeks off.” Or worse, Lance kept his final thought left unsaid, they’d think it so bad that they’d force him to cancel the tour. 

In reality, Lance wasn’t planning on going after tour either. He was _scared_. Scared because he _couldn’t afford_ therapy - not unless he went and lived back with Mama, or worse, Papa. If he moved back in, they’d know. They’d know _everything,_ and Lance wasn’t sure he’d still have a home to go to if they found out. 

Keith lookedas though he didn’t entirely believe Lance, a small frown creased across his features, but eventually he smiled. To Lance’s dismay, Keith had _hope_. Hope that Lance would listen to him, would get help, would heal. 

Lance knew he was going to _crush_ that hope, eventually. 

He wished he had hope, too, but after being stuck in the darkness for too long, Lance feared that if he came out of it, he’d go blind.

“Thank you, Lance,” Keith smiled a little, his shoulders lifting, as though a weight had been pulled off of them, making Lance’s stomach weigh down with even more guilt. Keith pulled Lance back into a hug. Lance eased back down and resumed to their position before, hoping that he’d forget about the conversation and the fear at even the _thought_ of attempting to give _It_ up.

Just as he was about to suggest to Keith they watch something else - his brain beginning to throb as the deep voice explained the ‘simulation theory’, the door crashed open.

“Bow down before your King, ladies and gentle-dudes, for he has brought gifts of sustenance for the oh so beautiful Princess Keithely-“ James cuts himself off as he marches through the door, choking on his words. “Oh, uh, hi Lance - I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“Nope,” Keith pops his ‘p’. “Don’t worry, James.” He wriggles out of Lance’s grip and pulls James into a hug. 

Of course Keith had told James - Lance had expected it the first moment they’d even kissed. This was the first time James had seen Lance since before the kiss, though. 

“Hey, James,” Lance feebly waves. James looks up from Keith’s shoulder. Before Keith can pull away, he pulls him back again, arms wrapped around him more like he was shielding him from Lance than protecting him. He gives Lance a dark glare as Keith makes a noise in confusion.

“You hurt him and I’ll rip your dick off and make you eat it,” James growled. 

“ _James_!” Keith pulled away, slapping him lightly on the arm. “You _can’t_ keep saying that to _every_ boyfriend I have - I swear it scares them off every time.”

“And I will continue to because it’s _true_ , I will do it,” James growled at Lance. 

Before Keith can strangle James, cheeks flushed red, Lance quickly cuts through, raising his hands in surrender. “I have no intention of that, it’s all good, uh, please don’t. 

James nodded, satisfied with the answer. He left Keith and slumped himself down onto the couch, bringing out enough food for _ten_ people, not three. Eventually, he slumped back, Keith resuming back in Lance’s lap, still flushing red and sending James glares.

 James simply stuck his tongue out at Keith, before looking to the TV. “So, what’re you guys - ugh, conspiracy theories, _again_?!”  
  
It seemed James and Keith didn’t have _everything_ in common, like Lance (and probably every one else that met them) had first thought.

 

-

James had left after a couple of hours, claiming he had planned to go out with the rest of his band. He’d invited Keith and Lance to join, but they’d had to quickly depart too for band practise.

It was the final practise before tour, something that was meant to be exciting, albeit a little stressful, but Keith found himself ready to throw his guitar at the wall. Specifically, a spot on the wall Coran was standing in front of. 

 Basically, he wanted to throw something at Coran. Instead, he resorted to glaring at him. 

“-And then we’ll have you on this platform, Keith,” Coran continued as Allura groaned and slams her fist on the keyboard, creating an eclectic set of sounds that made everyone _but_ Coran wince. “Flames will be coming out from the sides and - wait, what if we set your guitar on fire?!”

“You’re gonna set Red on fire?!” Keith squeaked, holding his guitar protectively to his chest. 

“Yes! While you’re playing a _solo_! A big one, just after Pidge has finished her drum solo being suspended in mid air-“ 

“I am _not_ doing that!” Pidge yelled from somewhere behind her kit.

“But we’ve got to add something special to these shows! We need-“ Keith blocks Coran out, noticing Lance pacing back and forth, humming their melodies under his breath, his hands kept clasped to his chest, clutching onto his microphone with shaking hands.

Completely ignoring Coran shrieking for him to come back so he could demonstrate (somehow) how Hunk was going to lift Keith onto his shoulders while they played a solo, Keith stepped over to Lance and placed a hand on his shoulder. Lance jolted and turned.

 “You okay?” Keith checked.

 “Yeah, just a little nervous,” Lance breathed with a smile. 

 “I’m not surprised, Coran’s freaking out enough to make _me_ nervous,” Keith chuckled.

 “I _told_ you Coran gets real crazy stressed before tour,” Lance laughed a little too, “but honestly, Keith, I’m okay. I get like this before we go on tour - it’s just nerves. I’m surprised you’re not the same.”

 Keith forced a smile. “So am I,” he lied, missing out on the line: _I have more important things to worry about._

 “Hey! Lovebirds! Get the fuck over here so we can practise the set!” Pidge yelled. 

 

-

 

   After (finally) managing to run through the full set without Coran stopping them to suggest another outrageous idea, they were all pretty exhausted. Lance's head had started to gently throb and he was ready to collapse onto his bed and not move for the next week. 

    Keith seemed to be the same - even though he was the quietest of the group, he seemed even quieter than usual. He was no longer throwing jokes back with Pidge, or laughing with Hunk at how Allura's eye twitched every time Coran opened his mouth. Instead, he stuck by Lance's side, watching the others converse with a small smile on his lips.

    All Lance wanted to do was drive home to hopefully get some rest and get the damn baseline for their opening song out of his head, but Hunk and Allura had somehow convinced him and Keith to stay for dinner.  They'd insisted that the whole band should stay for a final meal together to celebrate the start of their tour in only a couple of days.

    And so, instead of sitting in his flat with only Blue for company (and, okay, maybe this  _was_ the better option), he found himself sitting in Allura's large dining room with an array of delicious smelling food set out before him - curtesy of Hunk.

   Keith sat besides him, his fingers idly drumming on Lance's knee, in a conversation with Pidge about conspiracy theories. Lance had regretted the moment that he'd told Pidge that Keith watched the same weird videos as she did, because now that he'd started them both off, they wouldn't  _stop._

  He sighed, idly pushing his food about the plate, listening to everyone talking. Allura was one suggestion away from throwing her plate of food at her Uncle's head, and Hunk had joined in on Pidge and Keith's conversation as soon as they'd strayed to the subject of aliens.

   They all seemed happy. Lance was glad.

   Before, Lance would have joined in with the conversations, maybe even pretended that he didn't believe in aliens just for the sake of annoying Pidge, or tried flicking bits of food at Pidge from across the table to instigate a food war between them. 

   Now, though, Lance couldn't bring himself to do  _any_ of that. He just felt...out of place.

   Here were these people, these talented,  _beautiful_ , people who were happy, had their lives together, stable and supportive families...and then there was Lance. His home life was a mess,  _he_ was a mess, and from the constant concerned looks Keith was giving him, as though he couldn't relax because his mind was constantly on  _Lance_ , it seemed that he was tainting them. Worrying them - becoming a  _burden._

And he  _hated_ that. 

   Lance was just grateful that Keith hadn't treated Lance any different when he'd found out. He'd hoped that the should the other's ever find out, they'd react the same, although, he already knew that wasn't true. 

   They didn't even treat him the same  _now._ He was completely different to the confident, upbeat, optimistic boy that they'd come to know and make friends with. He was no longer the boy with the charm, the bubbling energy that could cheer  _anyone_ up. He was a ghost of the person he once was - only whispers of the traits that had made him, well,  _him_ remeained. In their places were misery, selfishness and  _addiction_.

   And Lance didn't know what to  _do._ He knew that he had to change, it was the only way to stop feeling this way. He  _knew_ Keith was right, that it wasn't good for him, but  this was  _him,_ now. This was what made him  _Lance._ He'd felt this way for so long that it had just become his identity. He was terrified that if he stopped, came clean, he'd be  _nothing_ , because there would be nothing left behind.

   He was certain that being addicted and miserable was better than being  _nothing at all._

   He was brought back to reality at the sound of Pidge yelling. Keith ducked, and it took Lance a few seconds to register that he'd ducked away from Pidge throwing her apple juice at him - and it had instead hit Lance right in the face. 

   There was a moment of silence, before Pidge burst out laughing. Keith blinked, hands covering his mouth, trying his hardest not to laugh. Eventually, his self-restraint collapsed and giggles overflowed from his lips. 

   Although Lance was covered in sticky, horrible juice, the sadness from his earlier thoughts still tearing at his chest, Lance found himself smiling. 

   Keith's laugh was  _divine._ The room felt a little brighter, the light from Allura's chandelier reflecting off of Keith's eyes who's beauty rivalled all the galaxies in the universe. His cheeks were bunched up and his nose crinkled, hand still covering his mouth. And the sound - the  _sound._ Lance wanted to record it, put it into a song to show the world that  _this_ was the most beautiful melody that the world had to offer. 

   And yet, confronted by such beauty, all Lance could think was how he didn't deserve Keith.

   Keith lifted a napkin as Hunk rushed off, muttering something about grabbing more, wiping Lance's face as he simply stared dumbly back, in a daze, as random sparks of laughter sputtered out of Keith every now and then. 

   "Are you okay?" Keith checked. Lance blinked, processing his words slowly, before nodding. Keith took the spare napkins from Hunk who was fussing about finding Lance some spare clothes, while Keith continued to pat Lance down, humming a little. "There," he finished, kissing Lance on the nose. 

   Pidg made an horrific gagging noise, while Allura just smiled warmly at between the two. 

   "Really? Right in front of my-" Pidge's mouth got covered by Hunk, who had practically ran upon walking into the dining room to stop her. 

   " _Please_ don't remind me of that video," he pleaded, taking a seat next to her as she sniggered to herself. 

   And there Keith went, laughing again as Lance's friends all joked with him. Lance sighed, placing his knife and fork down and slipping out of his chair. Keith turned and gave him a raised brow, hands settling onto the tabletop, as though ready to get up to follow him.

   "I'm fine," Lance muttered, knowing what question was on the tip of Keith's tongue without even hearing it. "Just gonna wash my face - it's still sticky," Lance muttered, leaving Keith. He kept his gaze set on the polished floor, trying to avoid his concerned gaze.

   He didn't deserve Keith's concern - not when he's so  _pathetic_ he lies to his boyfriend about getting help.

   He wanders through the maze of corridors, heading up the countless steps. He knew that Allura never minded him trailing around her home - she didn't mind him seeing the family portraits of her and her father hanging in the halls upstairs where no one could see. 

   He stopped in front of one, smiling sadly at the sight of a very young Allura, her wide, dimpled smile the exact same as her father's. They both held large pink clouds of candy floss, surrounded by the bright lights and colours of a carnival. Allura held a little pink mouse plush in one hand, raising it up above her head in victory. It must have been taken after her or her father had won it. 

   He remembered when he and his siblings used to go to the carnival every year, too. There used to be one that popped up every April here, though a few years ago it had stopped - something about the company running out of business. Veronica would put  _all_ of their pocket money they all earned from chores into a jar and hid it at the bottom of her wardrobe (mainly so that Lance and Sophie didn't find it and spend it all on useless plastic crap at the toy store they passed when walking home from school). When the carnival arrived, she'd split the money and they'd spend it there. 

   It was a good distraction Veronica had devised, so it gave the younger McClain's a break from thinking about how Mama hardly ate and spent most of her time in her room, or how Papa hardly visited when he'd said he would every week. It would distract them from the female voice they heard whenever he called, who he simply called his 'friend.'

   Lance remembered getting a sugar high, being blinded by the too-bright lights and the loud music. Everything was happy, there. A fake kind of happy that was just as sickly sweet as the candy floss that Allura and her father held.

   A day out at the carnival always left Lance with a stomach ache from all the candy he'd consumed and rides he'd ridden.

   He heard another bought of laughter from downstairs and sighed to himself, moving on from the photo and finding the bathroom. He steps inside, marvelling at Allura's large bath and shower. He'd longed for a bath, but his apartment was too small. When he used to stay round Allura's, back when they'd recently become friends, she used to let him indulge in it, and it's numerous settings that Lance  _still_ didn't understand.

   He stepped past it and reached the sink, splashing his face with cold water and looking back at himself through the mirror.

   It wasn't  _meant_ to end up this way. Lance knew that. Mama and Papa were meant to be celebrating their 25th anniversary this year, and Lance was meant to be touring the world - his band popular enough to make  _actual_ money and live comfortably off of it. He was meant to be living in an actual  _house_ , or at least a decent apartment, not having to worry about deciding between paying for electricity or food that week. He wasn't  _meant_ to have an addiction, he was meant to be  _healthy, happy..._

   But he had none of that. Lance was beginning to think he never would. He didn't deserve it. Any of it. 

    _Especially_ not Keith.

   Keith was  _too_ good for him. Lance was waiting for the point Keith would drop him for something better when he inevitably realises how pathetic he is, like Nyma had done. Relationships were always meant to end, always meant to be broken. 

   Lance just hoped it wouldn't hurt as much as Nyma, but already he knew that it would. Keith was...perfect, all Lance could ever hope for. 

   But Lance wasn't allowed that. He wasn't allowed perfect. He wasn't allowed anything even  _close_ to that. So all he could do was prepare himself for the day Keith realised that too.

 

-

 

   Keith sighed, looking to the empty seat next to him, then lifting his eyes to look to the clock. Lance had been gone ten minutes now and he was beginning to worry. 

   Allura seemed to notice and set her knife and fork down from opposite him. "Keith," she mumbled, barely audible under the sound of Hunk and Pidge talking. Pidge had said something funny, and the two burst out into loud laughter. Once they'd quietened down, Allura continued after a small sigh. "Is Lance okay? He's been acting...strange. He has been for a while now. I was wondering if you knew what was wrong?"

   Keith took his time chewing his food, giving him enough time to pick his words carefully, knowing Lance liked to keep his private life from his friends so they didn't worry. "I think losing his job at the bookstore has just stressed him out a little."

   "Ah, he's working for you now, though, isn't he?"

   "Yeah, it's a big change from what he's used to," Keith replied. "I, uh, I'm actually going to check on him, any idea where the bathroom is? He said he was gonna wash his face."

   Allura hesitated, before saying: "upstairs, third door to your right."

   "Thanks. I won't be long," Keith got up from his seat and slipped out of the room, reciting Allura's directions, finding him in front of a white-painted door, very much like the rest of the hall. He hesitated, before knocking. 

   "Lance?" He tries, only to get silence. "Shit," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Is this even the right one?" He sighed, hesitating. This  _was_ where Allura had said he was, and he had no clue where else to look. "If you're here, can you let me in? O-Or just answer me? Please? You've been gone a while - I just wanted to check you're okay."

   There was another space of silence, and just as Keith was about to give up and try a different door, it clicked open, revealing a dischevelled Lance. 

   Keith blinked, noticing Lance's tear-streaked cheeks and puffy eyes. His hands were shaking and there were blood stains on his upper lip. 

   Keith felt his heart sink.

   "Lance, did...did you-?" Keith stuttered, hands lifting to...Keith wasn't sure what he was doing, but he knew he needed to do  _something_.

   "Just a nosebleed," Lance muttered, voice hoarse. "Happens sometimes," he shrugged, rubbing at his temples and wincing. 

   He looked  _terrible_. He was pale, his eyes sunken, the usual sparkling blue pools were faded, completely washed out. They'd lost their vivid colour, looking almost grey in the low-light of the bathroom. 

   Keith had no idea what to do. Once again he found himself at a loss for words, for  _anything._ How could he make Lance feel better? What could he do?

   He was completely helpless,  _again._ Frustration began to boil and he found himself wanting to scream, to shout, to punch  _something_ , but one look at Lance and how defeated he looked was enough to force Keith to calm himself down. 

   Without saying a word, he stepped forward and pulled Lance into a hug, holding him tightly and pulling his head into his chest as though he was shielding him from the darkness that smothered him. 

   If only Keith  _could_ do that. If only he could shield Lance, protect him from all of his problems. If only Keith could think of a way to help him.

   All Keith could do right now, though, was hug Lance, gently easing him to sit on his lap on the ground, their legs tangling together and Keith's back leaning against the cold tiled wall. He squeezed him close as he began to shake and ran a hand through his still damp locks of hair, just holding him, hoping that right now, just  _being_ _there_ was enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say that Lance's thoughts are very, VERY unhealthy. You are not your addiction, mental illness... It does NOT make you who you are, but unfortunately at the moment he feels that way. He will overcome it, though. <3
> 
> Lance's whole thought process was very much inspired by supposed to be by icon for hire. :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re so lucky you’re driving right now, McClain. I’d have destroyed you. You’re a disgusting human being,” Keith muttered, voice trembling as he shivered. Lance smiled and turned up the car heaters.
> 
> "Aw, I love you too, babe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half of Keith's wardrobe is Lance's clothes by now.

During the last few days before tour, Keith finally had felt the nerves begin to cut in. From losing Shiro in the grocery store and almost having a full on meltdown as though he was a frightened toddler who’d lost his parent for the first time (because Shiro _always_ forgot to bring his phone with him) to _actually_ having a meltdown when Lance suggested making a last minute change to a guitar solo that was meant to progress one song into the next, Keith was happy to say he was a _wreck._

Today was the day before they head off on tour, and Keith had become _insatiable._ Even Curtis had snapped at him to put his damn guitar down and to come help him tidy up for when Lance arrived. 

Keith didn’t know why Curtis had decided, on his first day off in _weeks_ that the apartment needed a deep clean. He’d say Lance was the reason, but Lance had been here so many times before, he wasn’t sure why Curtis bothered. 

Curtis had decided that Keith was completely and utterly useless when he’d tried vacuuming, and ended up emptying it out onto the floor instead of turning it on, kicking him into his room and doing it himself. 

The man was a _machine_ , Keith had realised. Even Shiro had planned a last minute trip to their guitar shop to check Ulaz hadn’t killed Lance on their first shift together, just to stay out of his way. 

Instead, he’d ended up with a list of ingredients Curtis needed for the family dinner he was planning, when Lance came over this evening. Keith was glad it wasn’t him - Curits was _very_ particular with what brands he needed.

Originally, Lance was going to pop round in the evening to pick Keith up, and they were going to go to Lance’s flat, where he’d spend the night so Hunk could just pick them both up there - saving him a journey. When Curtis and Shiro had heard, however, they’d immediately invited Lance to come earlier, so that they could have the family dinner they were meaning to have for _ages_ , apparently. 

Lance seemed more nervous about that than the actual _tour_ , of all things.

Keith sighed, running a hand through his hair. Shiro had since gotten back, but Keith was still banished in his room. He’d checked his bags he’d packed for tour about five times, now, and had made Shiro go through them twice. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d forgotten something, even though he’d crossed off the items on his list every time he checked, and _nothing_ is missing.

As he checked for what he tried to convince himself was the final time, there was a soft knock at the door. He sighed, cramming his clothes back into his bag. “I’ll get it!” He called, so Curtis didn’t have to move out of the kitchen, where he’d locked himself now the house was completely _spotless_ , and so that Shiro didn’t have to stop whatever he was doing (probably annoying Curtis) to go and get it. 

He paced through the clean flat carefully, the smell of Curtis’s cooking, and the low mumble of him and Shiro talking and laughing making him smile a little. He pulled open the door to reveal Lance, who’s face brightened up into a wide smile. 

“Hey!” He greeted, planting a kiss on Keith’s nose. “I’m a little early,” he mumbled, biting his lip as he stepped inside, holding a carrier bag in one hand. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, just keep out of Curtis’s sight - he’ll freak out, probably.” Keith watched Lance take off his jacket and shoes, smiling at how much _better_ Lance looked today. Today must be a good day, and Keith was glad. Lance had taken the time to wash his hair and his skin was practically glowing - he must’ve finally gotten back into his skin care routine. It didn’t have a natural healthy glow like it should, but it was getting there.

He’d also taken care in choosing his clothes - a neatly ironed blue t-shirt and jeans. Keith really felt underdressed in his oldest pair of jeans that were _way_ too small (all his good pairs were packed for tour) and one of Lance’s t-shirts he’d stolen when Lance stayed round one time and forgot to take it back with him.

“You look great,” Keith mumbled awkwardly, shuffling from foot to foot on the carpet. 

“Aw, thanks, you look great - wait, is that mine?!” Lance snapped, tugging at it to get a better look. “It is! I’ve been looking for that for _ages_!”

“Uh, it _was_ yours,” Keith corrected with a smirk. “It’s mine, now.”

“You’re a horrible human being, Kogane.”

Keith gives Lance a playful nudge, beginning to tug him into the lounge. “I aim to please.”

“Are Curtis and Shiro in the kitchen?” Lance asked, fiddling with the bag. 

“Yeah, why?” Keith turned.

“I just got them something to uh, say thanks for having me,” Lance smiled nervously. 

Keith smiled fondly. “Lance, you’ve met them before, like, a thousand times - you don’t have to give a good impression, they already love you.”

“Yeah, but this is the first official family dinner we’ve had together! As _boyfriends_!” Lance’s cheeks tinted a little pink. “Wait, do you think it’s too much? Should I just take it back into the car? I can give it to Allura, she likes wine-“

“Hey, I never said they wouldn’t like it. It’s cute, and they’d really appreciate the gesture,” Keith reassured, placing his hands in Lance’s. “I’m just saying you don’t have to be nervous - I’m pretty sure they see you as family now, anyway.”

“Okay, _out of my kitchen!_ ” Came a yell. Shiro is pushed out of a door, it slamming quickly shut behind him, a small twinge of smoke coming along with him. He winced, running a hand through his hair, before spotting Lance and breaking into a smile. 

“Lance! You’re here!” He rushed over, pulling Lance into a hug. “How have you been?”

“Good, thanks. I uh, thank you for having me,” Lance awkwardly holds out the bag. Shiro blinked, before taking it from him and peeking inside. 

“Uh…cigarettes?”

“Crap!” Lance squeaks, snatching the bag back from Shiro and taking them out. “Sorry - I meant the wine, uh-“

“Shiro, stop being mean,” Keith muttered, shoving Shiro. Shiro chuckles.

“I’m kidding, Lance. Thank you for the wine, that’s very sweet of you,” he smiled. “I’d take it to the kitchen and show Curtis but I think if I try and open the door again I’ll get decapitated by a frying pan.”

Keith sighed, folding his arms as though he hasn’t had the same thing happen to him before. “What did you do this time?”

“I thought I’d help Curtis out and ended up almost ruining the entire dish,” Shiro mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as his face began to flush red. 

“How?” Lance asked, frowning. 

“I thought I’d put the spaghetti on for him but I forgot to add the water. Curtis didn’t notice until it started to burn.”

“Oh.” Lance looked between Keith and Shiro. So _that_ is where he got his terrible cooking skills. Keith seemed to read Lance’s mind and gave him a pointed glare. 

“I’ve finished packing for tour, by the way. Can you help me check I’ve got everything?” Keith asked, dragging Lance into his room while Shiro yells something about him being unnecessary - that he can buy whatever he forgets.

“ _You’re_ unnecessary!” Keith retorted, slamming his door before Shiro could say anything else, laughing. 

Lance most certainly _wasn’t_ laughing. He looked at the pure _destruction_ in Keith’s room and sighed. Lance didn’t think his room could get any worse, but it turns out when Keith is stressed, it definitely can.

Lance makes a show of rummaging through the bags. “Yup, I think you’ve got everything and then some more. Do you _really_ need four tubes of toothpaste?” He holds the four up accusingly.

Keith, from his place on the bed, crossed legged and plucking on his guitar, nodded. “What if I lose three of them?”

“If you lose _one,_ you can use mine?” Lance threw them out, ignoring Keith’s whines about what they’d do if they _both_ lost their toothpaste. 

“Oh, and Keith? We’re touring for a couple of weeks, not a year. You do _not_ need this many t-shirts. You probably won’t wear any of them, anyway. You’ll just steal all mine!”

 

-

Lance had decided that though Curtis no where near the level of his Mama’s cooking, his food was still _amazing_ , and he was already firmly agreeing to Curtis’s invite of another meal when tour has finished. 

Shiro had retired to bed not long after dinner, Curtis following him out of the lounge where they’d all sat talking both music and Lance answering mundane questions that came with getting to know someone properly for the first time, old reruns of sitcoms playing quietly in the background. It was homely, and Lance missed the evenings that his family used to do the same, though instead of the conversations, it was usually them all sitting around a board game, every single McClain (even Mama McClain) tossing out small talk for _fighting_ talk. 

Keith had sat in Lance’s lap the whole time, or at least, until Curtis called over his shoulder as he lead Shiro out the room for them both to wash up before they left. 

“But Lance is a _guest_!” Keith jumped up, calling out in protest.  
  
“Then do the damn washing up yourself, Keith!” Curtis called back. Lance chuckled, remembering trying the exact same excuse when his Mama made him and Hunk wash up after a meal when he used to sleep over. 

Keith huffed, folding his arms and grumbling to himself. Lance stood and prowled over, placing his arms around Keith’s waist. He kissed his jaw and whispered into his ear:

“Bet I can wash up more dishes than you can.”

And so, Lance and Keith ended up covered in soap suds, Keith’s hair plastered to his forehead from where Lance had thrown a sponge smack into his face. Lance was pretty sure his own hair was slick with the washing-up liquid Keith had proceeded to pour into Lance’s hair shortly afterward. 

Needless to say, Curtis hadn’t only kicked them out his kitchen, but out the damn _house._ Keith had said a quick goodbye to Shiro, who said he’d see him every night on tour (queue Curtis screaming they were _not_ doing that unless Shiro wanted to wind up in hospital again.)

Curtis, though still slightly pissed at the whole water fight incident, gave Keith a hug and bid him good luck, telling him they’d see them at the last two dates of the tour; Mama’s coastal hometown and their own hometown. Apparently Shiro only thought they were going to the last date here, but Curtis was planning on surprising him. He needed some time away from their home, and this was the perfect excuse to do just that.

Lance had laid down two plastic bags on the seats, Keith ranting about how he let his car _reek_ of cigarette smoke yet he wouldn’t let a little soapy water get on his seats. Lance had, in retaliation, pulled open Keith’s window while going down the highway, causing him to get a blast oficy-cold air to the face. 

“You’re _so_ lucky you’re driving right now, McClain. I’d have _destroyed_ you. You’re a disgusting human being,” Keith muttered, voice trembling as he shivered. Lance smiled and turned up the car heaters.

"Aw, I love you too, babe."

-

 

Lance had woken before his alarm had gone off, _somehow._ It was barely five in the morning, the sky outside still dark. The roads were completely silent, and even _Blue_ was asleep - her quiet snores mingling with Keith’sfrom where she was laying curled up between their tangle of legs. 

Lance sighed, cuddling further into Keith. It was nice, having someone around again. Even if there were still nights that Lance spent at home (though now they were few and far between) Lance knew Keith would drop everything to answer a phone call or text message. Lance felt a little less guilty messaging Keith all the time, rather than messaging Hunk, because Keith too messaged him in need of advice or to just talk (mainly after a therapy session, Lance had noticed). It was a two-way thing, and Lance liked that. 

It was still hard, though. The more Lance got attached to Keith, the more his feelings grew into something _more_ than a mutual attraction and fondness, the more he worried. The rational part of his brain tried to remind him that Keith would _never_ do anything to hurt Lance - after finding out his deepest and darkest secrets, he never left, in fact, he tried his best to _help_ Lance, but there was always another part of his brain - the part that made his skin crawl and his anxiety grow until he knew he just _had_ to get high - that told him that Keith was bound to leave, and the closer they got, the more it was going to hurt him. 

But despite him knowing that, believing that voice wholeheartedly, he still couldn’t bring himself to leave. What they had, right now? Lance couldn’t give it up, no matter how bad it’s going to hurt when it inevitably crashes and burns.

When the alarm finally blared and interrupted the heavy morning silence, Keith groaned, burying himself deeper into the covers. Lance chuckled, running a hand through Keith’s hair. “C’mon, Keith!” He sang quietly. “We gotta get up!”

“No!” Keith whined. “I quit the band. I just wanna sleep.”

Lance sighed. “I know I said I wouldn’t say I told you so when you decided to stay up ’til one to watch those stupid conspiracy theories instead of coming to bed with me at a _respectable_ hour for touring, like ten, but, I told you so.”

“Not stupid,” Keith muttered, gripping onto the covers tightly. It reminded Lance of the times Blue would dig her claws into the carpet when Lance tried lifting her to get her into the case for a checkup at the vets. He sighed. 

“Fine. I’ll shower first - you can have five more minutes, okay?”

Keith said nothing, merely beginning to quietly snore again. Lance smiled fondly and managed to pull himself out of their tangled pile, taking one last look before hopping into the shower.

After washing, he checked his phone, toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth. 

**_Hunk:_ ** _Sorry buddy we’re gonna be ten mins late cause Pidge really wants to stop for coffee. Allura’s gonna kill her. You or Keith want anything?_

 

**_Lance:_ ** _A video of Pidge’s death pls._

_And yeah I’ll have the usual. Keith’ll take whatever death coffee Pidge has._

__

__ **_Hunk:_ ** _Not a morning person?_

 

__ **_Lance:_ ** _I can’t even get him out of bed rn._

 

__ **_Hunk:_ ** _rip you._

 

_-_

 

Lance practically carries Keith into the shower. The only reason Keith even gets up is because Lance promises coffee and a nap on his shoulder in the van on the way there. _And_ because he threatened to sit Keith in the shower, still in his PJs, and turn on the jet of cold water.

While Keith’s showering, Lance lays out enough food to last Blue for today, making sure the note with all of her requirements was left on his fridge. He’d given Marco the keys to look after her. It was the only reason the flat wasn’t a complete state anymore - it had taken Lance _forever_ to muster the energy to tidy up. Keith had helped. Mostly. He’d tidied for an hour then gotten distracted and spent the rest of the time playing Lance’s guitar while _he_ tidied.

Keith eventually stumbles into the kitchen, hair still wet, rubbing his eyes with Lance’s hoodie sleeves. 

“I didn’t even put that hoodie out for you to wear?” Lance frowned. 

“Comfy,” Keith replied as though it explained everything, slumping down into one of the kitchen chairs and yawning. Lance sighed, ruffling Keith’s hair. 

The bell buzzed and Lance quickly let Hunk inside. Eventually there was a knock at the door and Lance opened it to reveal Hunk, who immediately started helping lift some of their gear. Mainly it was their bags and guitars, as well as a couple of amps. The rest of the equipment was stored in the guitar shop, where them and James’s band would be meeting to pick it up before heading to their first location. 

“Hey, Hunk, do you mind taking this too? Please?” Lance places Keith’s red bag atop of the amp that Hunk had lifted up. “I’ve got a boyfriend to carry.”

He headed back into the kitchen. “C’mon, Keith, we’re going now! Your coffee’s waiting in the van!” Lance sings. Keith lifts both arms at Lance. Lance sighs and gives Keith a piggy-back. Keith buries his head into Lance’s shoulder, sighing. 

Lance managed to (somehow) juggle Keith, his bag and guitar, and make his way with Hunk down the hall. When they get to the steps, Hunk sighs and takes Lance’s bag and slings Keith’s guitar over a shoulder. How he’d managed to carry so much, Lance would _never_ know, but he was thankful for it.

As Lance lead Hunk out the building, Keith had began to snore again, and even Hunk couldn’t suppress a small smile.  

“What time is load in?” Lance asked.

“Can’t we at least get on the road first?” Hunk sighed. 

“Hunk, I’ve gotta know or I’ll panic! You know the deal!”

“I shouldn’t have stopped Pidge from making that timetable. I thought you’d take it the wrong way but maybe you did need it,” Hunk huffed. “I think load in is at five? Considering it’s five in the morning, I think we’ve got plenty of t-“

“Don’t! Last time you said that we broke down and had to cancel the rest of the tour!”

“Alright, alright,” Hunk hugged but smiled a little. Lance held the door open for Hunk, spotting their tour-van parked up outside. It’s slightly bigger than the last. Allura waved at them from the drivers seat, giving them a smile. 

“You and Allura taking it in turns again?” Lance asked as Hunk dumped the gear onto the floor. 

“Yep, should be fun. I pulled the short straw so I gotta drive after shows.”

“Your service is greatly appreciated, buddy.” Lance claps Hunk on the back. “I’d better deliver our precious cargo,” Lance smiled fondly at Keith.

“You two are sickening,” Hunk muttered, though he too smiled.

Lance clambered into the bus, setting Keith next to Pidge, while taking the window seat for himself. Pidge is on her phone, not even looking up to say hello. Her hair is tufted and her eyes have heady, dark bags underneath them.

“Ew, I think I’m turning to stone,” Lance teased. 

“I will not hesitate to jump on your boyfriend to strangle you,” Pidge growled, and Lance held up his hands in surrender. 

The smell of coffee in the van is strong, and Lance smiles at the sight of his and Keith’s coffee cups set in the cup holders near their seats. 

“Good morning, Lance, Keith!” Allura greets with a tense smile. Lance is sure that Allura’s not human - how a woman could have curled her hair, styled it, done a full face of makeup _and_ look as though she had her full eight hours of sleep baffled Lance, but there she was, somehow so collected and well put together.

“Morning - Keith would say hi but, uh, he’s asleep.”

Allura chuckled just as Hunk climbed in next to her in the front. She started the engine and immediately pulled away, uncharacteristically going a little over the speed limit. Being late always stressed her out, even though her planning was so thorough that she could be running half an hour behind and still be on time.

“He’d better wake up when we get to the guitar shop - he needs to get inside for us.”

“Eh, I work there now, I can handle it if our princess still needs his beauty sleep.”

Pidge glared at Keith enviously.

“I wish _I_ was asleep.” She took another sip of her death-coffee. Lance noticed the empty can of red bull next to her seat and prayed it was from their last tour, and not one she’d drank this morning.

 

-

 

Eventually, they arrived at the shop. Keith was awake by then, just barely, huddled into Lance and sipping at his coffee. Despite Hunk telling him there were _four_ shots of espresso in it, he still yawned with every other sip. 

Lance thought he looked cute, with his fluffy untamed hair and bleary eyes, in the hoodie that was a size too big for him with sleeves curled over his palms and hood pulled over his head. 

When they arrived, James was already slumped against the door of the shop with the others all with him, looking just as worse for wear as Keith. Lance pulls Keith’s hood down. 

“Hey, we’re here,” Lance mumbled as Allura immediately jumped out of the van, Hunk following. Pidge sighed and followed too. “C’mon, we gotta go too.”

Keith gave Lance the keys. “You do it.”

“Nope. Come on lazy-ass.” Lance hauled Keith out of the van, just in time to hear James’s dramatic monologue.

“I am _dying_. I am actually dying over here. Why do we have to travel so _early_? Surely it won’t take us _six hours_ to get there. Like, do you people not understand the concept of _sleep_?! I think I’m gonna pass out, Veronica. I’m going to die.”

Veronica rolled her eyes and gave Lance a wave. When he and Keith reach the door, Keith tries to hand Lance the keys again. 

Keith gave him that puppy dog eye look he’d been perfecting recently, and Lance was going to be strong, say no, and-

He took the keys.

“Where is it all?” Lance asked.

“Stock room, at the back. It’s all got ‘tour shit’ written on it.”

“And the water bottles?” He sighed.

“Back of the staff room.”  


“Stay here though in case we can’t find anything.”

“WHIPPED!” Pidge yelled, apparently having enough energy now to whip Lance on the ass with her jumper and run away howling with laughter before Lance can return the favour.

“Okay, that is _not_ fair,” James whined at Ryan. “Why can’t _I_ skip out on this too?”

Veronica opened her mouth to explain exactly why he _couldn’t_ , but Ryan interuptted. 

“If you’ll stop whining, fine. Go sit with Keith.”

“ _Yes_ ,” James hissed like a kid being told they could have another sweet, slumping on the pavement next to Keith.

Lance lead everyone inside and directed them to the various places the equipment had been placed. It had become a military operation, people dividing into groups; Ina organising the equipment being loaded into each van, Nadia and Pidge handling the bottles of water, and Lance, Ryan and Hunk carried out the equipment. Allura and Veronica stood by the doors, watching them come out and ticking off the different items off of the checklists that Keith had made for each band. James and Keith tiredly watched over them all and shared Keith’s coffee like the beautiful, helpful princesses they were. 

With everything ready, Lance carts Keith back to the van. He seemed a bit more awake, and even helped Lance lock the shop back up, before they headed back to the van. 

Allura had started driving off before Lance had even closed the door, antsy to get on the road so that they could get to the venue on time, berating Pidge for making them have a coffee stop, threatening that they’ll have to skip on lunch if they met any traffic. 

Keith had muttered how he’d packed snacks, and Lance laughed as Pidge’s jaw dropped and she hugged Keith so tightly Lance was surprised that no ribs were broken _._

It was like any other start to a tour; the van silent while everyone let the exhaustion of having to get up so early catch up to them, only the low hum of a playlist on Allura’s phone drifting between them, and of course the quiet rustling sound of Keith getting whatever snacks he’d packed out of his bag. Lance was sure Hunk was asleep, trying to get whatever rest he could so he’d be awake enough to drive after the show. 

While Keith and Pidge were sharing some of the snacks he’d brought with him, Lance checked his phone, surprised to see both parents had finally messaged them after he’d reminded them the dates to his shows yesterday. 

**_Mama:_ ** _Sorry, honey! Can’t make it to your show - I need to cover Mia at work! Have a lovely time, though! Tell Keith I said hi xx_

 

__ **_Papa:_ ** _I’m going out that night, sorry Lance. Maybe another time._

 

Lance sighed, leaning back in his chair, feeling his throat clog up and his chest sink. Before he could let his deprecating thoughts get the better of him, a warm hand places itself on his knee. 

He turned and Keith smiled, pushing a sweet past his lips and into his mouth. Lance realised it was his favourite - the sour strawberry sweets Keith didn’t even _like._

“There we go. You look cute when you smile,” Keith mumbled, kissing Lance on the lips as Pidge made gagging noises.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I need you to leave me alone, Keith! I don’t need you to look after me all the time!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't a big fan of the last chapter and as I finished this one early, I thought I'd post it a little early for ya'll! Enjoy <3
> 
> TW: drug use, panic attacks

   They  _did_ manage to get lunch in the end, though Allura stressed they'd all have to hurry up so they could get back on the road. She'd also threatened to kick both Pidge and Lance out the van when they'd proceeded to sing  _'McDonalds!'_ over and over until she pulled into the parking lot. Keith had grumbled in agreement that they certainly  _did_ need to get kicked out, having had to sit in between them as they sang at the top of their lungs, with folded arms and a pout that put most toddlers to shame. Lance had pretended to cry after that, because apparently Keith was bullying him. Hunk, smartly, had stayed out of it. 

   Because Keith was 'bullying' Lance, he'd paid for Lance's food. Or at least, that's what he told everyone. Really, he knew that Lance had spent almost all of his wages on enough drugs to last him for the tour. Keith wasn't happy to find out, worried that he should be doing something to  _help_ him - to  _stop_ that, but he knew he was unfortunately powerless in the situation right now.

   The one thing stopping him from stressing about it so much he'd probably lose sleep, was that Lance had promised to get help after tour. Keith was hoping the stash he'd bought would be one of the last. 

   His worry, however, had gotten worse when during their lunch, he barely spoke or ate, his hands seeming to be shaking so much he struggled to sip from his drink properly. Eventually he had excused himself for the bathroom partway through their meal. 

   It had been ten minutes since then. The restaurant was surprisingly empty for a lunch time - though they could just barely call it that. The breakfast items had only just come off the menu, and the only few people sitting inside were a few families that were clearly just catching something to eat while they travelled to wherever they were going on holiday. 

   Keith sighed and handed James the rest of his burger. He took it with a happy squeal-like noise, gulping down the rest of it in one go. Keith rolled his eyes, but couldn't find it in himself to smile when the seat the other side to him was still empty, untouched food still laid out. "Lance has been gone a while," he mumbled, looking mainly to Hunk, hoping that he'd be able to have an explanation that would set Keith's nerves at ease. 

   Hunk only frowned, pushing Pidge's hands away from his fries without giving her a glance. "He has. Maybe he's gone for a cigarette?" He suggested, trying to calm Keith's nerves down even though he too looked just as worried as Keith.

   "I did see him walk past, I think he asked Allura for the van keys," James said between mouthful's.

   Keith stood immediately. "I think I'm gonna go check on him."

   "You'll go 'check' on him, huh?" Pidge repeated, wiggling her eyebrows as she shoved one of Hunk's fries down her throat before he noticed. James choked on the milkshake, muttering something about how he  _loved_ her.

   "Ha, hilarious, Pidge," Keith muttered, dislodging her glasses with a flick as he walked past. She threw him the finger, which he returned, heading towards the exit. Allura, from the other table with the rest of the crew, glanced up for a second, before going back to her conversation with Romelle. 

   It was cold outside, the wind beating at Keith's thin hoodie with such strong gusts he was worried if he didn't concentrate he'd fall over. It howled and the starting specks of rain began to drop from the sky, like tiny shards of ice digging into Keith's skin.

   He saw a sillhouette in the front of their van, crouched over the dashboard. Keith stepped over and pulled open the door, expecting Lance to maybe be freaking out about the show, or just taking a moment for a breather away from everyone, or even trying to smoke in the van to get away from the wind. What he didn't expect to see was Lance snorting powder off of the dashboard. 

   He freezes, at a loss for words, barely finding the strength to hold the door open and stop it from crushing him as the wind beat on. All he could think was what the  _fuck_ \- what if Hunk or someone else tried to check on him, instead? What if a cop pulled up and saw him?!

   His stomach lurched. Was he really that desperate?

   Lance sniffed, wiping his nose and checking himself in the rearview mirror, blue eyes glazed over as he looked at his reflection with such  _hatred_.

   "L-Lance?" Keith rasped, his voice barely audible, his eyes stinging as he blinked harshly.

   Lance's body jolted and he turned around quickly as though Keith had just screamed.

   "Keith! I, uh..." He bit his lip, eyes darkening even more with hatred and guilt. "Did...Did you...Uh..."

   "I saw," Keith admitted, shuffling into the van and sitting himself down on Lance's lap, wrapping his arms around him, unsure of what else to say.

   "I'm sorry. I should have hidden it better," Lance muttered, guilt and self-hatred dripping into his tone. Little did he know, Keith was feeling the exact same way. "I mean, real classy of me, huh?" He forces an abrupt, high-pitched laugh that doesn't quite sit right with Keith.

   "It's uh, it's okay...I mean, it  _isn't_ but..." Keith sighed. He didn't know how to approach this  _at all_. "It's not okay, Lance, but...I think I understand. I just...I'm glad I know, just in case you get hurt."

   Lance stays silent, letting Keith hold onto him tightly, as though he was trying to protect him from the damage the drugs were inevitably doing to his system. 

   "I'm sorry," Lance repeated.

   Keith doesn't say anything, simply locking his hand in Lance's. "Come on, let's get back to the others. Pidge'll end up getting suspicious, and I really don't wanna know what she thinks we're doing right now."

   Lance blushed at that, and as they walked back inside and back up to their table, Keith gripped tightly onto Lance's hand, worried that if he let go, the poor boy would be swept away with the wind. 

   When they slump back into their seats, Pidge scrutinised them. 

   "Ha! Lance is sweating and shaking - they  _definitely_ did  _something_!" Pidge held out her hand to James expectantly. Keith's hand gripped a little tighter on Lance and tried his best not to cringe.

   "There's no way Keith would do it in a van - he has  _class_ , Pidge. He'd at least do it in a BMW or something."

   Hunk frowned, but didn't say anything.

   "Look at Lance, though. Can't lie with what's right in front of you!" Pidge held out her hand. 

   "Whoa, guys, c'mon, they probably didn't," Hunk intervened. "And even if they did, is it really your business?" The pair ignored him, and James handed her a five dollar bill with an exasperated sigh.

   "A pleasure doing business with you," Pidge mumbled.

   "Why did we think it was a good idea for them to meet," Hunk muttered, placing his head in his hands. Keith hummed, ignoring Pidge and James joking around in favour for watching Lance go back to picking at his food, not eating any of it.

   His hand squeezed Lance's just a little tighter, and he found he couldn't  _wait_ for the end of tour - if only just because Lance was going to get the help he needed.

 

-

 

   Keith found himself on edge for the rest of the night. He dragged Lance, who wouldn't stop  _talking_ , back into the van as soon as Allura started getting antsy that they were spending too long here and needed to get on the road, constantly fiddling with her keys from the table next to them. 

   It was Veronica who had rounded them up and gotten them back into their vans, swatting James with a rolled up paper bag when he tried wrapping himself around Keith like a koala (as though he didn't already have Lance doing the same thing), trying to persuade Hunk to swap vans with him.

   Veronica was having none of it, and dragged him back to MFE's van by the wrist like a small child. 

   Lance struggled to do up his seatbelt. Keith helped him, hoping Pidge didn't notice - she was too busy trying to kick the back of Hunk's seat.

   Hunk, with the patience of a saint, ignored her.

   Keith kept a hand in Lance's, still, his gaze never leaving him for a second, even when the unsettled feeling of travel-sickness started to rise from not looking out of a window.

   But Lance seemed  _fine_ , if a little more talkative than usual. He was arguing with Pidge, Keith hadn't listened to know  _exactly_ what it was about, but Lance was doing  _that_ laugh that made keith shiver a little, while Pidge threatened to stab him with a drum stick. 

   "I bet I could take you on right now in this van!" As though to prove his point, Lance lunged at Pidge. Keith grabbed him and pulled him back. 

   "Nope, we are not doing that, Lance."

   Lance just smirked, mumbling something inaudible to Keith, but it was enough to make Pidge frown. He started to hum along to the music Allura had playing through the van, swinging his feet a little. He was still shaking, and was sweating a little. 

    Keith managed to tear his eyes away from Lance for a minute before things began to go...awry.

   There was a small tug on his hoodie sleeve, at first, until it got more persistent.

   "What?" Keith turned, seeing a completely different Lance to the happy, if a little dazed Lance he'd seen before. His eyes were blown wide and his skin had a sickly sheen to it.

   "I need to get out," Lance muttered, trying to undo his seatbelt and climb across Keith to undo the door while they were on the  _highway_.

   "Uh, okay, I'll ask Allura to pull over." 

   He does just that. Allura huffed in irritation, her eyes flickering to the time, but after seeing the trembling and anxious Lance clinging onto Keith in the back, she does so without question.

   Keith pushed open the door and Lance simply climbed over him to get out. Keith followed, Hunk close behind. 

   "Lance, are you okay?" Keith placed a hand on his shoulder. Lance's hand clutched at his chest as he breathed a little heavily.

   "I'm fine!" Lance snapped, jerking away from Keith. "Just...stop worrying over me all the time! I'm not a kid, Keith!"

   "Whoa, buddy, he's just worried," Hunk tried, but Lance ignored him.

   "Jus' feel a little sick. I'm  _fine,_ " Lance all but growled at them. 

   "Do you need some water?" Keith tried, hand hovering over Lance's shoulder. Lance slaps the hand harshly away. 

   "I  _need_ you to leave me the fuck alone, Keith! I don't need you to look after me all the time!"

   A hand placed itself gently on Keith's shoulder. "Why don't you sit at the front? He gets like this sometimes, before a show. He doesn't mean it, I think it's some form of panic attack. He just needs some space."

   Keith knew it  _wasn't_ that, but he didn't know what else to do. He was used to taking the heat of someone's hurt - he tried his best not to  _mind_ because Lance couldn't help it - he wasn't in control right now. What he did mind was that he had no idea how to help Lance, to get him to calm down. 

   But, if Hunk knew Lance got like this a lot, even if he didn't know the cause, he clearly knew how to deal with it better than Keith.

   With one weary look back at Lance, he climbed into the front of the bus. Allura gave him a concerned look, eyes flickering between him and Lance, but thankfully didn't say anything. All she did was soothingly pat Keith's knee with a small, understanding smile, as a tear dripped down his cheek. 

   He watched Hunk rub Lance's shoulder, before grabbing a bottle from the van and coaxing him to drink some water. Lance shuddered, and Keith is worried he's going to vomit, but eventually, Hunk managed to guide him back into the van. Lance sat back in his place he was in at the start of their drive, by the door, a plastic bag clutched in his hands, while Hunk squeezed himself in the middle. He gave Keith a shaky smile. 

   Lance stayed with his hands wrapped around his stomach for the rest of his ride, trembling a little, before eventually falling asleep. Keith couldn't tear his gaze away from him from the rearview mirror for the rest of the journey.

 

-

 

   Lance was awoken by Keith however many hours later, the orange glow of the sunset piercing through the window and causing him to squint. He grumbled at the pounding in his head, feeling something cold get pushed into his hands. It's a bottle of water. Keith gave him a small, tense smile and didn't say a word about what happened earlier. Lance's memories were hazy, but he did remember how he'd snapped at Keith, how Keith was sitting in the front of the van trying to wipe the tears from his cheeks before anyone noticed. 

   "We're at the venue," Keith said before Lance could muster the courage to speak. "Hunk, Allura and I aren't gonna load all this stuff inside all on our own. Come down and help."

   Before he could shuffle back out, Lance grabbed Keith's arm tightly. "Keith, I-I'm sorry."

   Keith sighed. "It's okay," though it very clearly wasn't. He eased himself out of Lance's grip and climbed out the empty van, disappearing. Lance placed his head in his hands, tugging at his hair. Not only had he now made Keith worry by letting him catch him  _taking_ , but he'd also snapped at him and told him to  _leave him alone._

   Lance had just felt so guilty, so disgusting, so  _dirty._ There he was, being drawn to the verge of paranoia just because he was so high that sitting between two people made him claustrophobic, and Keith,  _Keith_ , knowing that he was high, that he deserved the nausea and the anxiety, still tried to help him. 

   Lance didn't deserve him. 

    _Keith_ didn't deserve Lance to snap at him so harshly, either.

   He stumbled out the van and began to help Hunk and Keith carry the various instruments inside. He didn't even bother teasing Pidge about how she has to hang back because Allura had banned her from carrying anything after the time she'd insisted she was able to carry a bass amp alone and ended up spraining her wrist.  They'd ended up having to postpone the rest of the tour, even though she'd insisted she could still play because, quote, 'rock and roll, bitches'.

   He and Hunk carry those amps instead, while Keith and Allura take to bringing the various parts of the rum kit inside for Pidge to piece together.

   "Hey, Lance," Hunk began, and Lance felt his heartbeat spike. "Are we gonna do that thing where we get a few audience members on stage to sing with us tonight?"

   This was what Lance loved - Hunk knew he didn't want to talk about whatever the fuck happened earlier, so he just  _didn't_. He acted as though it never happened. It helped Lance feel  _normal_ again.

   "We can try - better check with security first, though," Lance decided, lowering the amp he and Hunk were carrying together to the ground. Already, Pidge was bashing away on the drums, making a cacophony of noises as Matt screamed at her from the sound desk to  _stop_. She, of course, stopped, gave him the finger, and continued. 

   Allura was helping Romelle set up the merch table with Coran, who was fretting over what was the best way to fold the T-shirts that hunk had spent the better part of last week printing. 

   Lance looked around for Keith, expecting him to be with James, who was sitting with Ryan and Nadia in the corner, writing set lists on the back of old, crumpled tour posters. It seemed they weren't as prepared as Allura, who had a bright pink popper wallet filled with typed up setlists that had their logo pasted underneath. She wanted them kept in pristine condition so that she could reuse them (even though she printed off enough for them to have a new one every day of the tour), but Lance knew Keith's would be covered in notes before the show even began, and Lance himself always gave his to a fan at the end. 

   But he wasn't there, nor was he standing awkwardly at the bar like he had been at their venue back at home, when he and Keith had first met in... _that_ disastrous way.

   Instead, he spotted him sitting on the stage, legs dangling over the edge as he tuned up James's guitar.

   "James getting you to do his dirty work again, huh?" Lance asked, leaning against the stage next to Keith. From here he could hear Matt's voice screaming at Pidge through the monitors to get off the kit and let him set up properly. 

   Keith nodded with a small hum. "He's just helping keep me busy," he mumbled.

   "Keep busy?" Lance frowned, noting how Keith's hands were trembling so much he was struggling to twist the pegs properly. 

   "If I'm busy I won't think about, uh," he whispered the last part out, "nerves, I guess." 

   Lance smiled a little. "Well, if you need another distraction, just give me a call," Lance winked and gave Keith a nudge. His joke fell on death ears; Keith's expression didn't change. "Seriously though, Keith! It'll be fine! People don't usually look at the musicians, anyway. They're all too busy staring at the  _gorgeous_ lead singer, so it's okay!" Lance tried to put on his cocky, flirty tone he always used, but it came out flat. Flat in the way that the tone tasted wrong on Lance's tongue, and that it didn't even make Keith  _smile_. 

“But I’m _new_ , they’re all gonna be staring and wondering who I am,” Keith muttered, placing James’s guitar to the side. Almost immediately James popped up by Lance’s side, causing him to jump and fail at holding back a shriek. 

“Thank you!” James hugged Keith tightly, before grabbing his guitar. ”Need anything else to do? Ryan might let you tune his bass,” James suggested, but Keith simply shook his head. He frowned for a few seconds, before glancing quickly to Lance. He hesitated, before placing a hand on his shoulder. A silent kind of conversation goes between the two as they meet eyes, Keith nodding a little, before James turned on his heel and left, heading back to Ryan and Nadia.

Lance continues with the conversation before, determined to reassure Keith like he has done so many times to him. “They might stare, but it’s fine Keith. People don’t notice when we make mistakes or _anything_ , they’re too busy dancing and singing along. I once sung the first verse _again_ instead of the second chorus and no one noticed! Or if they did, they didn’t care, they just sang along; as long as you don’t just stop out of nowhere, people don’t care.”

Keith nodded a little, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Sorry. Just been a while since I’ve played in front of a crowd and, uh, other things are on my mind that aren’t really helping either.”

Lance smiled a little, but couldn’t help feeling guilty, because he knew at least one of those ‘things’ were probably because of him. He took a seat next to Keith and wrapped an arm round him, pulling him close. “It’s fine, we all get nervous.” He leans close to Keith’s ear, placing a hand over his mouth as he points to Hunk, who’s pacing back and forth, mumbling something to Allura. “Especially Hunk.”

Before Keith could form a reply, Matt spoke through the speakers again. “Paladin’s! Set up so I can do your sound - we’ve got like, two hours until doors and we’ve done _nothing_ thanks to Katie fucking Holt.”

“Fuck you Matt!”

Lance chuckled. “I like that. I think we need to put that on a t-shirt.”

“What, ‘fuck you, Matt’?” Keith frowned, looking up to Lance.

“No, ‘Katie fucking Holt’. But actually, fuck you Matt has a nice ring to it too.”

 

-

 

Sound check was pretty easy, Keith found. It was a lot of time standing around waiting for Matt to set the right frequencies and volume for each part of the kit, and the right effects for his, Allura’s and Lance’s vocals. They’d played a couple of songs, using this as an opportunity to run through a song James would be running on stage to sing with them. James spent most of his time trying to throw Keith off and make him laugh, from sneaking up behind him to tickle him during a solo or pulling stupid faces while he’s meant to be harmonising with Lance and Allura. 

Though he most definitely kicked James in the shin and whacked him with the neck of his guitar at some point in retaliation, Keith didn’t mind. It helped distract him from the various faces staring at him from the venue floor (which was exactly James’s intentions, much to Lance’s annoyance because there were a couple of times where Keith _did_ end up making a mistake).

Keith watched James’s band do the same. James, much like Lance, had an air of confidence that could only come with doing this sort of thing many times before. Keith found himself envious that the two of them could turn off the nerves the moment they stepped in front of the microphone, and he wished he knew how to do the same. 

It wasn’t until the doors opened and Lance dragged Keith backstage that it really started to sink in that Keith was _doing_ this. Lance had forced Keith into doing a couple of vocal warm-ups with him and Allura, but Keith had eventually excused himself after taking a peek and realising the room was already half full with _so many people._

He’d retreated to the toilets, splashing his face a few times and looking into the groggy mirror. The lights flickered and buzzed, the dull hum of the too-loud music throbbing through the walls. Small quotes were drawn onto the walls along with various drawings and names, the once-white paint now a muted yellow. 

He washed his face in the sink, shivering when he remembered what Lance had been doing the last time. How Lance had been - so eclectic with his emotions and not in control _at all._ How he’d been even _before_ he’d gotten high - completely withdrawn, not eating, anxious and on edge…

It was _agonising_ for Keith to watch his boyfriend suffer like that. Especially knowing he could do absolutely _nothing_ to help. 

He took a deep breath, trying to distract himself by reciting through certain riffs he had to do for the songs, only to find him mind completely blank. 

 

_Fuck, had he forgotten_ ** _everything_**?!

 

Keith’s breathing shortened and he slammed his hands down onto the edges of the sink to keep himself standing on his shaking legs. The pounding music grew louder, the stuffiness and smell of cheap soap becoming nauseating, the flickering making his eyes go funny and head feel dizzy. He felt helpless, powerless…he couldn’t _help_ Lance and he couldn’t remember his parts, he was going to _fail_ and completely ruin their set and oh god what if Lance takes again and he gets hurt? Is Shiro okay at home or did he hurt himself? What if Curtis was at work and he had another panic attack and no one was there to help him? He hasn’t checked on James in a while about his father - what if he’s hurting and needs Keith? He’s such a bad friend for not checking up on him! What if Lance overdoses before they get back home? What if he trips over a lead and falls flat on his face - does he have spare guitar picks? What if a string breaks on stage, what if Lance is taking right now - what if Shiro’s in _hospital,_ what if-

“Hey, Keith? Babe?” A knock at the door kicked Keith out of his thoughts, and he realised he was on the floor, in the corner of the bathroom, way too hot and breathing way too heavily. The door squeaked open and Keith kept his head in his knees. “Shit, Keith? Hey, what’s wrong?” His knees were gently pushed apart and a hand fell under his chin to lift his head up. Lance’s warm smile greetsed him, a hand taking his and rubbing circles into his palm. “You nervous for the show? It’s gonna be okay, Keith. As soon as you step up there, get behind your guitar and the music starts? All those nerves are gonna drain away. It’s fine, you’ve practised so much, your brain’s just gonna immediately know what to do without _you_ knowing it - that’s the beauty of music, buddy.” He smiled, calloused thumb rubbing against Keith’s cheek. 

Keith stared right into those blue eyes, clearly a little nervous themselves, but he was trying his best to hide it for Keith’s sake. 

“Trust me, you’ll remember _everything_. I can’t even remember what song’s our opener right now, but when we get onstage, and all you guys start playing, I won’t even need to _think_ about what the first lyrics are, they’ll just come to me.”

“What if I can’t though? What if they don’t like me, or I break a string or…or…”

“Keith, you’re just stressing. You break a string? Play without it - rock and roll, bitch,” Lance winked. “So many people I’ve played with have done that. Besides, it can’t be any worse than once, when I started dancing on stage, I got tangled up in Rolo’s guitar lead and fell off the stage - I flattened a poor fan and it hurt like a _bitch_ , but when I got up and got her back up, the crowd were _cheering. She_ was cheering. You know why? Because we’re _rockstars_ Keith! That kinda stuff is badass to our fans!”

“Did that really happen?” Keith found the energy to snigger. Lance’s smile grew wider, more genuine. 

“I have a scar on my back to prove it,” Lance replied with a chuckle, his breath brushing against Keith’s face. “Now c’mon, Mullet, James asked me to come get you because he wants you to see their set. They’re meant to be starting soon and I’m pretty sure he’s not walking out on that stage until he sees you.”

Lance pulls Keith out of the bathroom and through the halls, holding his hand the entire way. When they make it back to the backstage area, James is standing there, biting his nails nervously. When he sees Keith, he smiles and pulls him into a tight hug. 

“You okay?” He checked. Keith nodded. “Good. Now watch how a _real_ show is done.”

“James, you act like I haven’t seen your band a hundred times before,” Keith chuckled. 

“Details, details,” James winked, tapping Keith on the nose. “Just watch us, okay?”

“James, c’mon!” Veronica snaps, pointing to where the rest of the MFE’s were climbing onto the stage, the crowd beginning to cheer. 

“See ya!” James saluted and ran up onto the stage, the cheering getting even louder. 

Keith took a deep breath, watching James greet the crowd as they go into their first song. He’d already taken jumping into the crowd to dance with them, and he’d not been on the stage five seconds.

Lance stood behind him, wrapping his arms around him and placing a head on his shoulder, watching with him. Keith exhaled shakily, fiddling with Lance’s hands. 

 

_He could do this, couldn’t he?_

 

-

 

The crowd _loved_ Keith. Lance had to call him out to come closer to the front instead of his place right in the corner, almost next to Pidge’s drum kit, to do a solo, but after the crowd roared with cheers, Keith managed to step forward and enjoy himself. 

As soon as their set finished, and they stepped out to the march table to talk to the fans, Keith was bombarded by people. As soon as James had seen, and seen Lance couldn’t get to him through his little crowd he’d gathered, he’d pushed through them all with shouts of ‘best friend coming through, out the way!’ And stood next to him, helping him try and not get too overwhelmed with the sudden attention. 

Lance was sure that Keith will have talked to more people tonight than he had his entire _life_. 

-

 

Eventually Lance finds himself with some time to himself, and decides to escape from the stuffy venue out the back. He manages to sneak out without Keith seeing, who was still talking to a couple of young girls, Allura standing with him and helping him through it after James had to leave his side to help Ryan pack up.

The night was cold, the brisk air jolting Lance out of the weird disembodying haze that he was experiencing in the venue. He lights a cigarrette and leans against a wall, watching cars flash past on the high street, the sound of the music inside rumbling lowly through the walls.

The door squeaked open again, and Lance expected it to be Keith - maybe he _did_ see Lance escape and decided to follow him. Instead, it was James, who looked wearily around the alleyway before his eyes met Lance’s and he stepped over with a small smile.

Lance had always been weary of James. He was _so_ close to Keith, closer than even Shiro was to him. He knew _everything_ about Keith; his little ticks, quirks, how to make him laugh, how he’d react to certain situations…He even predicted Keith’s panic attack, getting Lance to check on him before the poor boy combusted from his nerves. 

He wasn’t jealous of James, but more of his bond with Keith. He felt he could never live up to that.

_James_ didn’t drag Keith into a drug deal, force him to pay out money for him or make him almost _cry_ because he’d caught his boyfriend snorting cocaine off a dashboard. 

James was everything Lance wasn’t. He was what Keith _deserved._ Where Lance was miserable and brooding, James was fooling around and making Keith laugh; where Lance’s hair hung limp and lifeless, James’s shone; Keith deserved James, Lance didn’t deserve Keith. They were complete opposites, in every way. 

Okay, maybe Lance was a _little_ jealous.

James eyed the cigarette wearily, leaning next to Lance on the wall. He pushed Lance’s hand down before he can offer.

“I gave it up. Trying to keep that way,” James muttered, “sorry I just - it’s hard, sometimes.”

Lance understood and slipped the packet back into his pocket. They stood in silence for a while, the low thrum of traffic lingering between them. 

“Did your parents not come to this date?” A shake of the head. “Are, uh, are they coming at all?” He asked wearily, as though he already knew the answer and was more afraid of the reaction. 

“No. They’re not coming,” Lance muttered.

“Is that’s what’s got you so down?” James asked, turning so he was leaning a shoulder against the wall, facing Lance fully, eyes that were made piercing under the heavy layer of eyeliner studying him closely. 

“I’m fine,” Lance tried, but James shook his head.

“No. Something’s up, and whatever it is, it’s serious enough to be worrying Keith, too,” James mumbled, sighing. “Look, I know you don’t want to worry him, sometimes I want to keep shit from him too - he worries too much, makes it _his_ problem as well as yours, which is why I’m here,” James smiled a little. “You’ve done so much for Keith, so I think it’s only fair that I do the same back, to say thank you for looking after my best friend. So, whatever’s on your mind, you’re welcome to talk to me about it.”

Something makes Lance hesitate, not opening up to James, but not brushing him off either. It was a fair proposition, but Lance couldn’t understand _why_ James cared so much. _Keith_ was his friend, not Lance. Shouldn’t he be helping Keith, instead?

“Look, if what’s worrying you _is_ about your parents, mine didn’t come either,” James continued so easily, as though he knew exactly what to say to help Lance. Maybe it was because Keith too had trouble opening up. “I mean, not that my father _could_ now,” his voice cracked a little and he averted his gaze, “but they never did. Every show I did at school I’d always be looking at two empty seats. I’d beg my teachers to save a couple of seats, because they _had_ to come. I’d write notes on the fridge, I’d nag my father about it so much that he’d end up hi-“ James cut himself off abruptly. “Empty seats,” he continued, “until high school, where I met Keith. I stopped saving the seats, ‘cause I knew they wouldn’t turn up. It was easier, in high school, though. Keith never had anyone watching for him either - not until Shiro and his mom adopted him. It still hurt, but knowing someone else was going through the same, that I wasn’t alone, wasn’t the _only_ one. It made getting up on that stage a lot easier,” James smiled a little, though it was saddened. 

Though Keith had never told Lance outrightly what had happened to James’s family life, he knew that it had been rough, particularly recently for him. 

“Did they ever come to see you?”

“No. Not once,” James sighed. “Actually, my mom came once - I was so excited. It was one of our first shows at a proper venue, but, uh, she left after the first song of our support act, so she didn’t actually _see_ me. It doesn’t really count.”

“What?!” Lance grit his teeth. “Why did she leave?!”

“Music wasn’t her thing,” James shrugged. “My father used to think it was a waste of time and used to tell me that every time I gave him a ticket. It was useless wasting one on him, I know, but I just hoped that maybe one day he _would_.” 

Lance frowned at how he talked about his father in past tense. “Did anything happen? To your father?”

“He died a few months ago,” James sighed. “He was an alcoholic, got real addicted. My mom _hated_ it and she was always out because she refused to look after him - she only stayed because she wanted his will money - she, uh, she told me when she got drunk when I visited last week. It was…it was a mess.” James sighed. “It just killed her, I think, watching him kill himself like that. It hurt me, too. Even though he _hated_ everything I did, picked on every little failure and uh, hurt me, I still didn’t want to wish that on him. It still hurts seeing someone you’re supposed to care about die. I-“ James wiped a tear from his cheek, “I sometimes wonder if he listened to mom at first and did get help, if we’d have been okay. If he’d stopped with all the…” 

Lance blinked away tears of his own. If his addiction ever lead him to that, he hoped Keith would just leave him and be happy. He would hate to drag Keith down with him.

“I’m so sorry, James,” Lance mumbled.

“It’s okay. I just…I wanted you to see, how bad it effects someone, even if they’re not all that close to the person. Just imagine what it must be like for Keith, who _loves_ you with everything he’s got watching you do this.”

Lance freezes, his blood turning cold. “How did you-“ Did Keith _tell_ James?!

“I worked it out. Believe me, my dad may have been addicted to alcohol, but I know the signs,” James replied. “Keith doesn’t know that I know, and, uh, I’m surprised no one else got concerned about how you were acting yesterday, it was a little obvious you were on _something_ , Lance.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know Keith’s probably suggested you get help by now, and I _know_ you probably don’t want to but, please, if you can’t do it for yourself - if you don’t feel worthy of doing it for yourself, for whatever reason, _please_ , just do it for Keith. You’ll be dragging him down with you, and I know you don’t want to do that.”

James’s words had a harsh edge, but it was clear he was just desperate to help his best friend, to help _Lance_. 

Sometimes, a harsh wake-up call was needed. When he and James stepped back inside however much longer later, he pulled Keith to the side. 

“When we get back, we’re booking that therapy session,” Lance told him, Keith’s eyes widening, before breaking into a large smile. His shoulders lift, as though a weight had been pulled from them, the creases in his brow loosening and his eyes sparkling a little. 

He pulled Lance into a kiss, before hugging him tightly, whispering: “Thank you, Lance. I’m so proud of you.” 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flickering flame warmed his palm as he shielded the flame from the rain, lighting up the cigarette and taking a deep breath. He wasn’t even allowed two minutes alone with his thoughts before he could hear gentle footsteps gaining on him.
> 
> He turns, expecting to see Lance, or even James - maybe they’d woken up and wondered why Keith wasn’t there. He almost thought he was right, seeing the tanned skin and phosphorescent eyes, but the rimmed glasses reflecting the lights of the car park - like stars in the surface of a lake - told him otherwise.

They’d made their way through the majority of the locations on tour, by now, and things were getting mostly easier for Keith. Easier in the way that he no longer almost threw up from nerves before a show, easier in the way that he came to the front with Lance a lot more often, and found it easier to actually enjoy the shows he was playing. 

But at the same time, things were getting _harder._ He already knew that being on tour meant a severe lack of sleep, but what with his permanent worry for Lance, he found himself hardly sleeping at _all_. He got a handful of hours a night, the rest of the time simply lying in the cheap hotel room they’d bought that night (a family room to save money, with Pidge taking the kids bed - each night she’d tease them and say the moment she hears one of them moan she’s kicking them out to the van), his head resting on Lance’s chest just for the reassurance of his beating heart.

What was even worse, was Keith could tell when Lance was high, and it was, despite being around his friends 24/7, getting more and more often. So much so, even _Ryan_ had pulled him aside at one point asking if Lance was okay because he seemed off. 

James had pulled Ryan away when Keith struggled for a believable answer, and Keith was left confused as to how James had known Keith had needed to be pulled out of _that_ situation. Not that he was complaining; Ryan had a knack for knowing when people were lying. He was the only one who knew about James’s situation, besides Keith, mainly for that reason.

Keith sighed, lying on the uncomfortable double bed while he heard the sound of the shower. Pidge was sitting in the corner on her laptop, hair sticking up at ridiculous ends. They’d had to wake at an ungodly hour again, so early that they didn’t even get the unlimited breakfast that came with their stay. Pidge and Hunk were absolutely _appalled_ Allura would allow such a thing, but she wouldn’t budge, even if for the next couple of days they didn’t have a show. 

They were going to a coastal town that’s name had left Keith (as had every town on the tour - he barely knew what day it was, let alone where he was), but he did know it was where Lance’s Mama used to live, and they went on holiday there a lot to visit family. Lance was the one who insisted their day off was there, as he wanted to spend some time back in his Mama’s hometown. Keith also had a suspicion it was a ploy to get the date to land on his Mama’s day off, so that she could come. 

The shower abruptly stopped, and Pidge’s eyes shot up, before looking to Keith pleadingly.

“It’s all yours when he comes out,” Keith mumbled. “Give it another ten minutes, though - he’s doing his shitty skincare routine that takes _forever-_ ”

“I CAN HEAR YOU!” Came Lance’s muffled yell from the bathroom.

“- and he doesn’t even need it because he’s beautiful already!” 

“Aw, babe!”  


“I am here too, idiots!” Pidge yelled, meeting Keith’s eye and gesturing him to come over. 

Keith does just that, taking a seat next to her. Her bed is even worse than _his_. 

“Is he okay?” Pidge whispered. “Everyone’s noticed he’s been acting strange recently.”

“He’s okay,” Keith lied through grit teeth. “He’s real excited for the next couple of days, actually.”

‘Oh yeah!” Pidge smiled and nudged Keith. “You guys gonna go do something nice on our day off?”

Keith nodded. “I’m thinking of taking him out somewhere, I’m not sure where though. I’ve never left our town before.”

“You should ask Veronica,” Pidge mumbled.

“Ask Veronica about what?” Lance stepped out the shower in just his underwear, still drying his hair with a towel, a cloud of steam following him.

Keith felt his throat dry and cheeks flush, whereas Pidge let out an ungodly scream and threw a pillow at Lance.

“Get clothes on! _Ew_!”

Lance’s hands went to cover himself from the miscellaneous items being tossed at him. “I thought you’d left! I thought you’d left!”

“Why would I _leave_?!” Pidge looked to Keith, who was still staring at Lance. “For fucks sake,” She smothered Keith with the second pillow (the pillow that was meant to be Keith’s, but she’d stolen it claiming he had a Lance-shaped pillow instead), before running into the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind her. 

“You’d better be putting _on_ clothes McClain and not taking Keith’s _off_ or I’ll show you _both_ how a toothbrush can become a murder weapon!” Followed by the shower beginning to run and her grumbling: “no way am I sharing with those two ever again.”

 

 

-

 

 

It had been a long day of travelling, and at some point Pidge and James had swapped places in the vans after lunch, and Keith was pretty sure James found it hilarious that no one had noticed (when in reality, everyone had noticed, and Allura was one poorly-timed joke away from kicking _everyone_ out of the van). 

This time round it was James that shared a room with Keith and Lance, Pidge having given back the $5 James had lost on their bet in order to persuade him t o give up his room with Ryan and Hunk. Keith knew James was mostly putting how much he didn’t want to share with Keith and Lance on; he could see the twinkle of excitement in James’s eyes when Pidge had asked, and Keith was honestly scared to find out why. 

Soon enough, Keith found out it was mainly because James wanted to whine about how he was so lonely and needed someone in his life right up until Keith turned out the lights and smothered him with a pillow to get him to shut up. 

James had been quiet after that, thankfully. He’d fallen asleep, as had Lance. And yet Keith couldn’t find himself able to do the same. 

His heart was pounding, and even though he’d called Shiro earlier, he couldn’t help but worry. His mind was all over the place - a tangled web of worry and anxieties - of Lance, James, Shiro - even Curtis.

He tried everything to stray his mind away from his worries - from counting to simply doing his breathing technique his therapist had taught him. Nothing worked. 

Eventually, he untangled himself from Lance’s long limbs and stole his jacket, heading out the hotel room and onto the car park in need of fresh air. As he left through the squeaky front door of the crummy hotel, he dug through Lance’s pockets, his heart jolting in his chest at the feeling of the small ziplock bag, pushing it aside to bring out the pack of cigarettes and lighter hiding in there. 

It was raining outside, the parking lot almost empty save for a few cars and trucks dotted around, including their two vans parked in the far corner. The lamps standing in the car park gave off an eerie luminescent glow, mimicking the cold light radiating from the full moon above.

He took a deep breath of air, crisp and fresh, the wind battering away at him as he walked a respectable distance away from the hotel. Rain beat steadily on the gravel, the pattering raindrops harmonising with the clicking of his lighter.

The flickering flame warmed his palm as he shielded the flame from the rain, lighting up the cigarette and taking a deep breath. He wasn’t even allowed two minutes alone with his thoughts before he could hear gentle footsteps gaining on him. 

He turns, expecting to see Lance, or even James - maybe they’d woken up and wondered why Keith wasn’t there. He almost thought he was _right_ , seeing the tanned skin and phosphorescent eyes, but the rimmed glasses reflecting the lights of the car park - like stars in the surface of a lake - told him otherwise.

“Veronica. What are you doing out here?” Keith asked quietly, careful not to break the calm silence that blanketed over the carpark.

 “I could ask you the same question,” she folded her arms, taking her place next to Keith. “What brings you out here at 3AM?”

And she was just so… _Lance_ , the way she’d try to flip questions on their head to avoid answering them, the way she rubbed her arm like Lance did when something was on his mind. He wondered if Lance’s other siblings were the same.

“Just thinking,” Keith shrugged, holding out the pack of cigarettes in an offer to Veronica. He knew they weren’t his to offer, or even take in the first place, but he’d buy Lance another pack when the stores opened in the morning.

She refused, and the rain picked up a little, beating down around them. Veronica lifted the hood to her coat to save her curled locks of hair from the sudden onslaught, but neither of them suggested they should go back inside to take cover.

“I remember Papa and I used to do the same. Come out when it was raining in the middle of the night. The air…the sky seems clearer.” She chuckled a little. “Of course, Mama never found out. She’d _freak_ if she knew - she was always worried we’d catch something if we spent too long out in the rain.”

Keith stayed silent. Veronica didn’t wait for an answer, she only continued.

“Papa and I did that a lot. I’m four years older than Marco - he’s the eldest, besides me,” she explained. “So I didn’t really fit in when they were all playing their games - I was too old for that. So he’d take me out just us two, so I didn’t feel left out. He was great.”

The way Veronica talked about her father was like how Keith spoke about Adam, as though he was gone. It didn’t quite sit well with Keith, because he was alive, wasn’t he?

Lance _did_ say that Veronica didn’t speak to their father anymore - that father’s day was the first time she’d even _seen_ him in years. Keith wondered if it was rude to ask why. 

Keith found himself asking anyway, quietly and barely audible over the pattering rain - apparently his brain to mouth filter doesn’t work. 

Veronica pauses for a second, the rain causing the curled, ash brown locks of hair that weren’t shielded by her hood to grow darker. She pulls her hood down a little more as the onslaught grows, hiding her face from Keith.

“I used to think being the eldest was great,” she continued, seeming to ignore Keith’s question. “You know, I got to boss Lance about all the time - he’d do anything I said just for the simple reason I was his big sister. I liked looking after them all, bossing them around, getting to go to sleep later than them…” She trailed off, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Marco _hated_ that.” Her smile slowly fell. “But when Mama and Papa were arguing, and they were fighting - it really upset them all, and being the big sister, I felt like I had to look after them. I had to stay strong for them and keep them together while everything else was falling apart.”

Keith frowned, but again said nothing, letting Veronica continue. 

“I took them to the carnival every year to try and distract them from the fact that Mama was depressed and Papa was together with a woman he was trying to hide from us. I walked them all to school, I settled any arguments and I helped them all with their homework. I kept them all happy while Mama used me as someone to confide in, because _I_ was the eldest so apparently I could give _good_ advice - and I tried, I did,” she mumbled, as though she was trying to convince Keith as much as she was trying to convince herself. “But it was a lot, being not only a support system for your brothers and sisters, but your mother as well, and being too guilty to ask them to support you back, because they’re hurting so much?”

There was a space, and Keith finally felt lie he had a place to speak. “I-I’m sorry to hear that, Veronica, I…I can’t imagine how that felt,” he places a hand hesitantly on her shoulder. “You don’t have to answer this, but why do you speak to your mother, but not your father? Did…did he do something else?”

She turns and grips onto Keith’s arms, her grip pressing, but gentle enough for it not to hurt. Her eyes, the bloodshot red making the icy blue even more piercing, glare straight into his with such an intensity, he feels a slight spike of fear. “This goes out to _no one_ , Keith,” she muttered, her voice low. “Especially not Lance, or Marco, or Sophia.”

“I promise,” Keith promised with a nod, because Veronica knew Lance better than anyone else, save maybe the other McClain siblings. She knew what to keep from him - he trusted she’d do the right thing.

Veronica let go of Keith, apologising quietly under her breath as she wrapped her arms around herself. “He…Papa cheated on Mama,” she whispered, as though she was worried that someone would overhear, despite them being alone in the parking lot. “That’s why they broke up. She found his messages to another woman when we were on holiday, and asked for a divorce there and then,” she mumbled, her hands shaking. “She told me, but never told the others. They were too young and she didn’t… _we_ didn’t want them to hate their father. They needed him, but I…” She trailed off, taking off her glasses to wipe her cheeks. “I can’t help it. He cheated on Mama, he left us…left _me_ to pick up the pieces. It’s his fault I had to bottle all my emotions up as a kid and it’s his fault our family’s falling apart - that Lance hardly sees us anymore and that clearly _something_ isn’t right with him and I just…I can’t forgive him for that. I didn’t _mind_ that he left, I just _hate_ that he left me to support everyone on my own, and didn’t even offer me a shoulder to lean on himself.”

“Did he know?”

Veronica nodded. “I tried talking to him about it but he just told me he didn’t want to hear about Mama, that I was old enough to handle it.”

Keith’s jaw clenched. “I think…you should talk to them about it. Especially Lance, he…he wouldn’t want to know you were hurting and you didn’t tell him. He _wants_ to help you, Veronica, he knows something’s wrong, he just doesn’t know _what_ , doesn’t know _how_ to help.”

There’s a pause, and the rain begins to ease a little. Eventually, Veronica says: “maybe I will speak to him. You, uh, you really think he’d be able to handle it? Knowing about Papa, I mean,”

“He’s gonna have to find out someday, Veronica. All of them are,” Keith replied. “He’s strong, stronger than any of us give him credit for. At least them, you can all support each other.”

“Thank you, Keith. I um, I will talk to him, after tour.” She sighed. “I guess I also need to thank you, Keith. Lance, he…I’ve never seen him this happy for ages. You’re really good for him.”

“He’s good for me too,” Keith mumbled, stubbing out his cigarette onto the floor. “I was going to ask, actually, if you knew where I could take him round here, for a date? I wanted to do something special for him.”

Veronica smiled. “Well, there’s this restaurant, just by the sea. It’s on it’s own little pier. When we went on holiday here as kids, with our family, we always went there. It’s a little on the expensive side, but it was always Lance’s place to go. It does these garlic knots that are Lance’s favourite thing to eat - I’ll give you the directions tomorrow. Take him there, he’s always said how he’s missed going there.”

“That sounds perfect, thank you,” Keith smiled. Veronica pulled Keith’s hood down and ruffled his hair. 

“No problem, Mullet,” she teased with a wink that was so alike Lance that it was uncanny. “Now we’d better get back to sleep - we have a big day tomorrow.”

“It’s our day off?”

“Fine, _you_ have a busy day wooing my brother tomorrow. _I_ have a busy day panicking about the fact that our next date hasn’t sold as many tickets as we need it to. Either way, we need to _sleep_.”

Keith chuckled. “You go. I’m gonna stay here a bit longer.”

“Alright, well, goodnight, Keith,” Veronica begins to walk away, before stopping. “Oh, and thank you.”

Keith simply smiled at her, watching her walk back into the hotel. As soon as he’s sure she’s gone, he pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts, selecting a number.

“Hello? Keith, it’s 3AM, why are you calling me?” Curtis’s tired voice grumbles through the phone. Keith hesitates, feeling bad for waking Curtis up, until he hears the low rumble of an engine - he must be driving home from work. “Keith? Everything alright?” Curtis tries again.

“I’m fine,” Keith mumbled, “I just, uh, was thinking and I…I want to say thank you.”

“Thank you? What for?”

“For everything you’ve done for me and Shiro. For always being there and supporting us, even when…even when I haven’t been all that nice to you. I just…I really appreciate it, and I know Shiro does, too,” Keith explains quietly. “And I know it’s hard, especially with us, and I just wanted to let you know that if you ever needed something or someone else to talk to, we’ve got your back too.”

There’s a long pause. “Thank you, Keith,” Curtis’s voice comes so softly that Keith almost missed it. “That means a lot.”

 

-

 

“We’re lost.”

Keith took in a deep breath, the fresh sea air helping to calm him as he muttered through grit teeth: “we are _not_ lost.”

“Keith, you’re taking me through the backstreets, I’ve been going here half my life and there’s nothing here; we’re _lost._ ”

“Fine!” Kieth huffed, folding his arms and abruptly stopping, causing Lance to bump into him and almost topple over. “I may have taken a wrong turn at some point. Veronica’s directions are _confusing,_ okay?”

The corner of Lance’s lip tilted up. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“And I’m _never_ gonna find out what it is if you don’t let me lead us there!”

“But I just…I wanted to do something for you,” Keith sighed. “I’m fucking it up, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I don’t normally do the whole ‘date’ thing…” Keith wrapped his arms around himself and looked to the ground, resigned.

“Hey, you aren’t fucking it up,” Lance eased his face up, kissing him on the nose. “I’m sure whatever you have planned is gonna be _perfect,_ Keith! It doesn’t matter if I have to get us there, it doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend just because you have no sense of direction-“

“Hey!” Keith shoved Lance playfully, a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine, lover boy, take me to the beach.”

“Oh, you were close!” Lance smiled, “I thought you were taking me into town, for which we’d be going the _completely_ wrong direction. It seems there _is_ something in there,” Lance pretended to knock on Keith’s head. Keith shoved him again and the two burst out into laughter between them, Lance taking Keith’s hand and leading them through various streets and alleys, until Keith could see the sea and hear the distant clanking of ropes on masts of sailing boats.

“I spent most of my summer holidays on this beach,” Lance mumbled to Keith, slipping off his shoes almost immediately after reaching the beach, walking in the sand whilst Keith stayed on the path, wondering how the _fuck_ Lance was walking in bare feet in the middle of autumn. “Sometimes Hunk came on our family holidays, too. Marco and I taught him how to swim. Veronica always kept an eye on us, though - once we took him when the tide was a little rough and he almost got swept out. Mama grounded me and Marco and we weren’t allowed to swim for the rest of the holiday,” he chuckled. 

“I can’t swim, either,” Keith shrugged, continuing to walk. 

“You can’t?!” Lance gasped.

“I mean, I probably could if it was like, a life or death situation, but it’d probably be a bad doggy-paddle. None of the foster parents I had ever took me swimming. By the time I got to living with Shiro, it was kinda too late. I was too embarrassed to take classes even though Shiro’s mom offered to get me some.”

“Hey, it’s _never_ too late to learn to swim,” Lance grabbed Keith’s arm. “I can teach you!” He smirked. “It would be a great excuse for me to see you without a shirt!”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Lance, even without an excuse you still try.”

“And it works!” Lance winked, hugging onto Keith’s arm as they walked. “Man, I missed being here so much. The sand between my toes feels so nice!”

Keith shuddered. “Nope. That’s the worst feeling in the world. Especially when you have to towel it off, and your feet are all scratchy? Ew.”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll buy James dinner instead.”

“You’re buying me dinner?!”

“No, I’m buying _James_ dinner because my beautiful boyfriend just broke up with me over an opinion on fucking _sand._ ”

“Well said boyfriend broke up with you because your opinion fucking _sucks._ ”

Keith smiled, easing Lance back onto the path so that they could start the walk down to the restaurant Veronica had recommended. 

“Yup, at this place. Familiar?”

Lance looked up to see the restaurant sitting on its pier amongst the water. The blue painted wood slightly more faded than the last time he’d been, with the tables and small blue stripy umbrellas sitting at the far end, small people darting in and out dressed in smart attire, carrying various platters of sea food. 

As they approached, the smell of garlic and lemons and delicious food that reminded Lance of _home_ grew, and he felt his chest flutter and his eyes sting a little. 

“How did you…”

“Veronica told me it was your favourite place.”

“Thank you, Keith.” 

Keith smiled and ruffled Lance’s hair. They both made their way inside, being greeted by a friendly family who ran the place. They were lead to their table and Lance barely spoke, simply looking around with wide eyes and a small, wistful smile on his face. Keith didn’t mind, and simply ordered them some drinks, and the garlic knots to start that Lance loved, watching him fondly.

They were sat right by the sea, and Keith watched the water sparkle and ripple around them, noting how Lance’s eyes imitated the colour and the liveliness as he took in the atmosphere.

“It’s exactly how I remember it. Keith,” His voice seemed to give way a little, “ _thank you._ ”

Keith smiled, reaching across the table and taking hold of his hand. “No, thank _you,_ Lance. Now, tell me what I should order from this menu because there’s _tons_ and I’m pretty overwhelmed,” he chuckled.

 

-

 

“Hunk and I are kinda like you and James,” Lance had started, between great big mouthfuls of pasta, “just Hunk isn’t as… _James.”_ Keith chuckled at that, nodding. “We didn’t get into as much trouble as you two either. Hunk hasn’t done a single bad thing in his _life_. Once he realised the cashier missed out something from his cart, and he didn’t realise until he got home. Any normal person would have been like ‘yay, free stuff!’ But no, Hunk drove all the way back to the store to pay for it.”

“James and I were once completely broke, my foster family had grounded me so I didn’t get any dinner, and James’s father had done the same, so we snuck out our houses and devised a plan to steal food,” Keith explained. “We went into this burger place we _knew_ didn’t take card, and he gave us the food before we paid. James took the bag and I asked to pay by card - he said they only did cash, so we ran for it. We didn’t get caught _that time_ , but we did get busted by Curtis when he was still training to be a cop once. We’d stolen alcohol from a corner store.”

“Oh shit,” Lance’s eyes widened. “My boyfriend’s a criminal!”

“He didn’t do anything, he just drove us both back home and told us next time he saw us out so late he’d bust us.” Keith shrugged. “I don’t know how we got away with half the shit we did - we’d leave school at lunch just to go smoke in the park, sometimes even ditch last period because of it.”

“And then there were me and Hunk hiding out the back of school to play Pokemon in peace were we couldn’t get teased,” Lance laughed, running a hand through his hair. “The worst that happened to me was my Mama was called in because I went from a straight A student to failing all my classes.”

“Tell me about how you got into music,” Keith mumbled, pretty much guessing _why_ Lance had began to fail his classes as a kid, and wanting to change the conversation to something lighter. 

Lance took a sip of his wine. “Well…you’d better not laugh! But you know Scooby Doo, how that band, uh, Simple Plan, they did the theme for it?”

“I haven’t actually watched any kids cartoons,” Keith mumbled.

“Okay, well, you’re dead to me,” Lance deadpanned. “When we’re getting home we’re definitely educating you on some kids shows. But _anyway_ , this pop-punk band did the theme for it, and ended up on a DVD, on the special features? Anyway, when I got given Marco’s old TV for my room, I used to play that DVD because it was my favourite, and I used to love watching all the special feature videos, for some reason. And it had a music video for that band on there, and I _loved_ it, so much, that Papa got me their albums for my birthday. I learnt all the lyrics to every song - still know them all now. I used to air guitar in my room and pretend to be part of the band as a little kid.”

“Cute,” Keith mumbled. “Was that it? You were just a rockstar from a kid?” He smirked. 

“Nah, I got into pop music when I was in year seven. Fell in love with Katy Perry,” Lance laughed. “I was flicking the music channels when I came across a rock one, and Simple plan were on it, so I kept watching that channel in case they came on again. Ended up getting into more bands, having a _big_ crush on Pete Wentz and realising I was bi…now _that_ was a mess.” He laughed again, “I wanted to be just like them all. Their songs helped me so much. No matter where I was; at my moms, at my dads, at Hunk’s because both their houses were too much…I’d put in my earphones before I slept, and I’d feel at home. I wanted to do the same for others, y’know? Help other people through tough times, let them know they’re not alone.”

Keith smiled, “you definitely are helping people through tough times, Lance. I can promise you that.”

Lance returned the smile, before saying: “so, what about you? How’d you get into music?”

“It all started when my father took me into the city,” Keith began melodramatically. “To see a marching band.”

Lance choked, almost staining his crisp white shirt with red wine as he laughed.

 

-

 

The sun had began to set, and Keith and Lance were sat on the beach, another bottle of wine that Keith had bought from the corner store sitting between them. They’d forgotten they’d needed glasses, and so took turns swigging out the bottle like the classy men they were, simply watching the tide wash away and the sun set over the horizon. 

Lance took a deep breath, smiling as he carded fingers through the windswept tangles in Keith’s hair. Keith had obviously put a lot of time and thought into the date, even talking to Veronica to make sure it was perfect. And it was with Keith cuddled into him, the sounds of the rippling waves and the feeling of sand between his fingers as he idly traced shapes into the ground.

It was just so _perfect._

So it was inevitable that things would crash and burn, when the shakes kicked in and Lance found himself collapsing to his knees once more under the stern, ever pressing glare of addiction.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Keith, who had tried his best to make the night special for him, clearly to take his mind off of his worries and addictions for just one night. Just _one night_ for them to escape that, escape _everything_ and just _be._

But of course Lance would fuck it up. It was inevitable; he _always_ messed things up. 

Of course he didn’t deserve one night away from this - Keith had done so much for him, and yet, what had he done in return?

“Lance?” Keith mumbled, lifting his head from Lance’s shoulder and pulling away. “You’re shaking - are you okay?” He took his warm hands into Lance’s cold ones, watching him wearily. “What’s on your mind, babe?”

Lance sighed, lowering his head, ignoring the pressing weight of the packet in his coat pocket. “I feel like I don’t deserve this, Keith. Deserve you. You deserve so much more. So much more than just a filthy junkie like me.”

Keith’s hands tore away from Lance’s as though they’d been burnt. “Is that…is that really what you think you are?”

Lance nodded, just barely. “I know I’m bringing you down with me with all this. I’ll…I need to get out your way. I’m hurting you, Keith, and I don’t want to do that.”

“Lance, you are _not_ …I…Don’t care whether you think I deserve you, or not. I-I don’t _need_ you to ‘get out of my way.”

“Well, what _do_ you need because-“ Lance cut himself off. _Because it definitely isn’t me._

“Someone to hold me,” Keith hugged onto himself, as though demonstrating. “I just…need that security, that stability, you know? And guess what, you’ve done all of that for me! You gave me a home even though we barely met, you’ve driven me to hospital and back to see Shiro, you’ve helped me through so many panic attacks and breakdowns - you’ve done more than enough for me!

“I just…I want you, Lance. No one else. I don’t care if you’re just a fucked up kid who gets high to hide his insecurities and fears about his future. I don’t care if you hide from your past and your family. It just means that there’s one more person like me in the world.”

Lance said nothing, his eyes glistening and rippling like the tide. His lip trembled, fists clenched. Before Keith knew it, he was being smothered into a hug, losing balance and falling back into a heap on the ground, sand billowing out around them.

“Thank you,” Lance whispered, burying his face into Keith’s neck as he trembled. 

“No, thank you, Lance. You’ve done so much for me, the world… _my world,_ it’s so much brighter with you in it.” Keith took a deep breath, lips brushing against Lance’s temple, the sound of waves crashing against the shore mingling with Lance’s sniffles and Keith’s pounding heart. “I _love_ you, Lance.”

Keith had no reply, only felt the arms gripping onto him grow ever tighter, Lance shuffling to place a salty, teary kiss to Keith’s lips, pulled tight with a smile, and for Keith, that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the small bit of fluff while it lasts :)))
> 
> Fun fact: Lance’s story on how he got into music is also my own :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I was gonna get this chapter up today - this weekend at the pub I work at has been chaos and I'm so tired, but somehow I still managed??
> 
> If there's more mistakes than usual I apologise, I'm gonna read it back again later and sort out any mistakes. (If I remember).
> 
> We're getting towards the end now, my dudes! Thank you so much for sticking with this fic and commenting and giving kudos - it means the world<3

   Keith had seen a lift in Lance since their date, and for that he was glad. He was more chatty with Pidge and Hunk, and his flirtatious personality was slowly coming back, much to his and Allura's dismay. Sure, there were a couple of times here and there where Lance distanced himself from the group, and a few times when Keith had to fish out tissues and painkillers from Allura's bag because Lance's nose was bleeding and his head were pounding, but Keith found himself finally able to breathe a little. 

   Maybe it was because the fresh air had helped clear  _everyone's_ minds, or maybe it was because Veronica had been taking care to spend more time with Lance; the two of them sneaking off before the show to go explore places they used to visit as kids, her teasing him and letting slip embarrassing stories of his childhood to Keith. Whatever it was, Keith was so thankful that Lance was finding it just a little easier to smile again. 

   While Lance was out spending time with Veronica, Keith had been whisked away with James to go meet up with Shiro and Curtis for dinner. They were staying in a hotel together overnight so they could watch the show then follow them back home for the final date of the tour, where they were playing at the venue where Keith had first met the Paladins. It was nice to spend some time out with Shiro and Curtis for once, to be able to laugh with them. Keith failed to remember a time that they went out together and laughed and talked so  _easily._

   Naturally, Keith and James had forgotten the time, and in order to get back in time they'd had to run back to the venue. Everyone else was already back when they arrived, bursting through the door and panting for breath. Blue spotlights rained down on Lance from where he stood on the stage, singing in the microphone while playing his acoustic guitar while Matt tried different reverb settings. 

   His eyes glistened and shone in the brightly coloured lights, pale clouds of smoke encircling him from the smoke machine, making him look all the more ethereal. 

   James's hand found its way to Keith's jaw and pushed it shut, giving him a devious grin. Before he can say anything, Lance's singing stopped, and instead, he shouted a: "Keith! We thought you were never gonna turn up!" His voice echoing through the venue. 

   Keith turned to see his  _boyfriend_ waving at him, such a wide and happy smile on his face Keith may have melted into a heap on the floor had James not decided to scream in a painfully shrill voice: "hey! Aren't you happy to see me too?!"

   While Lance started to ramble reassurances that yes, of course he missed James too, into the microphone, Keith jumped up onto the stage and grabbed his guitar, quickly tuning it up. Matt went through their sound check as quickly as possible between shouting at Pidge to stop being a  _little shit_ and play her drums when he  _tells her to_ , before calling the MFE's to the stage for their own sound check. 

   Lance and Keith watched them for a while, Keith hugging onto Lance from behind, having to go onto his tiptoes to rest his head on Lance's shoulder. Eventually, Lance pulled away and wandered off. Keith tried to follow.

   "Keith, it's okay, I just...y'know," Lance smiled sheepishly, and Keith's good mood dropped entirely.

   "Oh."

   Lance's smile dropped and he shuffled awkwardly, before practically running out of the venue. Keith was tempted to follow, but couldn't bring himself to watch Lance do  _that_ again, so simply turned back to the stage, wrapping his arms around himself and sighing.

 

-

 

   It had been lively before the show, as it usually was. Keith and Allura were warming up together - Lance had refused to join, claiming he'd already done so earlier. Along with their voices was the sound of James chattering away to Ryan, who was holding up a phone so James could do his eyeliner in the reflection of the screen. Nadia and Pidge were patting everything and anything with their drumsticks and Ina was studying her set list like she was about to go into an exam. 

   And Lance? Lance was sat on the sofa, trembling, and staring into space, not speaking a word. Hunk was close by him, plucking away at his bass, adding yet another noise to the cacophony in the cramped dressing room. 

   Keith  _hated_ this. He hated watching Lance suffer and not being able to do  _anything_ about it. He was so angry - not with Lance, but with himself for not being able to  _fix_ it. What kind of boyfriend was he for letting Lance-

   "-No, no, you go higher in this bit," Allura reminds Keith, interrupting his thoughts and tapping to a section on the set list where he'd written in capital letters 'HIGHER'. "Shall we-"

   Keith saw something slip out the corner of his eye and turned. Lance had slipped off the couch.

   Keith almost skidded over to him, on his way down to Lance's side grabbing a waste bin and throwing it in front of Lance's face as he vomited. The dressing room fell to an eery silence, save the horrible sound of Lance retching and the bass-heavy tones of the music from the stage.

   "Give him space," he heard Hunk say, and he saw Hunk trying to push a heavily concerned Veronica back. Hunk took a look to Keith, who was still rubbing Lance's back and holding the waste-bin, biting his lip. "Maybe we should cancel."

   Keith nodded in agreement and looked to James. "You guys can still play - it'd be unfair for everyone to have come all this way for no show at all."

   "It won't be much of a show, though," Veronica mumbled, "hardly anyone's come out to see them. They all want to see Paladin's."

   "I can play," Lance muttered, followed by another heave. Keith ignored him, as did everyone else in the room. 

   James hummed, placing a hand on his chin and looking quite ridiculous with only one eye covered in smudged black eyeliner.

   "We can add a few songs onto our set. If he's not well by then, I can sing the songs with Keith - you know all the words, right" He suggested to Keith, who swallowed.  

   "Uh, I don't think I could-"

   "'m fine, I can sing," Lance mumbled, lifting his head. Blood was smeared around his nose, again. Keith began to wipe it away, but Lance pushed his hand away and grabbed the tissue, doing it himself. "Sorry, guess I just ate some dodgy seafood out with 'Ron or something," he muttered, leaning into Keith a little. He was still trembling. 

   "You sure you don't need me to call a doctor?" Keith mumbled quietly, lips close to Lance's ear so the others couldn't hear him. "You haven't overdone it, have you?"

   Lance sighed. "It's wearing off, I'm fine, don't worry. Could do with brushing my teeth again, though."

   "Yeah, those poor fans when they catch a whiff of your breath when you sing in their faces," Keith attempted to make Lance smile, giving him a nudge. Lance doesn't even attempt a smile, much to Keith's dismay. 

   "We'll do two more songs," James decided, arms still folded. "We'll drag them out as much as we can. It'll give you an extra ten minutes. If you don't feel you can go ahead, please tell us, Lance," James muttered, kneeling in front of Lance with an understanding look. "I can sing your songs - I'm not you guys' biggest fan for nothing!"

 

-

 

   Lance managed to play the show in the end - he was  _determined_ to do it, even if it 'killed him'. Keith, despite  _hating_ being at the front, and preferring to be so far back on stage he was almost next to Pidge, stayed at the front next to Lance for the whole show. James also stayed on for an extra song, just to give Lance's wrecked throat as much rest as he could get when singing a two hour set. 

   Keith was so busy keeping an eye on Lance the entire show, that he hardly noticed Shiro and Curtis standing at the front of the crowd until Shiro screamed an 'I love you, Keith!' as Keith started a guitar solo. Curtis had yelled at him because Keith had almost made a mistake after realising that they were  _right there_ watching him.

   By the end of the show, Keith had glued himself to Lance's side, even if it meant he had to deal with  _double_ the fans, because everyone  _loved_ Lance - and Lance  _loved_ them too, making sure to talk to everyone for as long as possible. Though this time the conversations were shorter, and though he still smiled and took photos and signed whatever they handed to him, Keith could see Lance wasn't his usual energetic self with them. His eyes were bleary and his skin was pale - he looked  _exhausted._

   There was no use trying to steer him backstage so he could take a nap, though. Keith knew that  _no one_ could get in between Lance and his fans. Not even his own health. 

    Just as the crowd was thinning out, and he was going to suggest they help Matt and Romelle pack up, or go backstage and take a break so Lance could actually  _rest_ , someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see Shiro beaming at him, wearing a Paladin's T-Shirt. Curtis seemed to have a matching one under his arm, along with about three albums and a poster. 

   Keith's eyes widened. He was about to scold Shiro for paying for it all when Keith would have just given them to him for free, when he was pulled into a suffocatingly tight hug. 

   "Why did you let him buy a shirt, Curtis?" Keith asked, muffled by the fabric. He spotted Curtis shrugging over Shiro's shoulder.

   "Gave me puppy dog eyes. Sorry." He didn't sound sorry at all. "At least he didn't fill up  _your_ phone's storage videoing the  _whole concert_. he said he's gonna watch it when he gets home with you - be aware the whole thing is a shaky, grainy zoomed-in video of your face."

   "Fan-fucking-tastic," Keith rolled his eyes. 

   "Hey, let a guy enjoy his little brother's show!" Shiro defended, giving Keith a squeeze. "You did amazing, Keith. I'm so proud of you!"

   And all the lectures were forgotten as Keith smiled into the rough cotton of Shiro's new t-shirt, the factory smell almost as overwhelming as Shiro's words.

 

-

 

   "You did amazing, Keith! I'm  _so proud_ of you!"

   Lance froze, forgetting for a moment he was in the middle of signing a CD for a small girl, who was standing shyly next to her mother. He took a glance at Keith, who he could see was trying his best to keep his tears at bay. Of course, those were the words Keith had  _always_ wanted to hear from Shiro, and now he was saying it? Lance was so happy for him.

   And yet, at the same time, he was  _so upset_. It reminded him of how much he ached to hear the same thing from his parents. His parents who  _weren't here_ , had never been  _here_.

   He signed the CD, tried his best to smile genuinely at the camera so he didn't ruin the girl's photo, gave her a hug and let her catch her train back home. As he watched Keith laugh and chatter with Shiro and Curtis, he felt an ache in his chest. 

   "Hey, you did great tonight, man," James clapped Lance on the back with a warm smile. 

“Uh, thanks. You guys did great too - not that you don’t usually do…y’know, great,” Lance mumbled awkwardly. James smiled a little. 

“Hey! Lance!” Veronica rushes over, a few stray price stickers stuck to her Paladin hoodie she’s wearing. “That was amazing!” She scooped him up into a hug. “Oh! And guess what, Marco might be able to get someone to cover his shift tomorrow - he’s gonna try his best to come see you! Sophia’s gonna try and get a babysitter so she can come down, too!”  

Lance caught James giving them both a knowing smile before jumping Keith, clinging onto his back as Keith tried his best to grab James’s legs and not topple over, shouting at him. Lance buried his head into Veronica’s shoulder, smiling. 

“That’s great! I hope they can come!” He mumbled into the fabric of her hoodie, feeling a smile tugging at his lips as he gave her a squeeze.

“If not, I’m gonna at least livestream it so they can watch it. Marco said he’d hide in a store cupboard at work just to watch it,” she chuckled, pinching Lance’s cheek. “So cheer up, Lance! This tour is probably one of the best one’s we’ve done - even Coran agrees!”

 

-

 

Lance sighed, continuing to drive down the highway. Keith was shotgun, leant up against the door of the van, curled up in Lance’s jacket and snoring softly over Lance’s music filtering quietly through the van. Allura was busy typing on her phone in the back, probably updating all their band social medias with photos from the night, replying to any comments… Hunk and Pidge were both asleep, too, so the van was mostly silent. 

 Keith had been weary when Lance had offered to drive, but he’d pulled him aside and reassured him he wasn’t high anymore - that he could legally drive them. Keith was still concerned, but trusted Lance enough to agree. Hunk and Allura were grateful for the break, and Pidge was apparently grateful that she didn’t have to sit next to an ‘annoying bitch’ for the ride home. Whether she meant Keith or himself, he didn’t know.

It was the early hours of the morning. They’d barely spent enough time in the hotel to sleep - hence why Keith was sleeping now. He’d been awake when Lance had collapsed onto their bed in their hotel room (not shared with another band member, this time), and had still been awake, fiddling on his phone, with a hand in Lance’s, when Lance had woken up again. 

It happened a lot. Keith would hardly sleep at night, and make up for it in the van when everyone else was awake. It concerned Lance a little, especially as it clearly wasn’t doing his bones or muscles any good. He’d frequently complain about aches and pains in his joints, and Lance would always lecture him on how it’s because he needs to sleep in a proper _bed_ , not a van. 

Keith was stubborn, however, and didn’t seem to listen to Lance. 

Coming back home was something Lance had torn feelings about. It always crushed him, after living out in a van for a couple of weeks, living off the high of performing to crowds of people and being around his best friends was his favourite thing in the world. To come home and be back to being alone again, back to _normality,_ always left him in a depressive episode where he either slept _too much_ , or didn’t sleep at all. Sometimes he’d even skipped days, waking up to find the entire day had passed and he’d only just managed to get out of bed to feed Blue and grab something to eat himself. 

It didn’t feel so crushing now, though, because now, he was going back to be with Keith. He’d work and spend most of his time with Keith - he’d not _be_ alone. 

The only thing that terrified him, was that he’d have to get help. He’d have to _recover_ , and though he longed for the day he could become _normal,_ it also completely terrified him. It seemed like an impossible feat; as though he was told to swim and keep afloat with his hands and legs tied 

But, despite all that, Lance knew it was for the best. Keith deserved someone who had their shit together, who he didn’t have to clean up vomit for because he’d overdone it with the drugs. And if he _actually wanted_ Lance, of all people, then Lance sure as hell was going to make sure that he was good enough for Keith. 

 

-

 

Keith stands besides Lance, his arms folded. Matt’s running back and forth between Lance and the sound desk, a string of curses filtering under his breath. 

“Right, try now, Lance?” He called, pushing Pidge's hands away from the sound desk without giving so much as a look in her direction.

Lance tries playing again, but to no use. His guitar made no sound. They’d tried three leads, tried plugging into James’s guitar amp, even Keith’s, but nothing was working. 

“Fuck. I think she’s kicked it in,” Lance muttered. Keith motioned to give him the guitar, and Lance handed it over to him. He looked it over, James taking a place next to him, watching. 

 “The jack input’s fucked,” Keith muttered, gesturing to the loose metal plate on the plug hole of the guitar. “I’ve got some spare at the shop - I can fix it there.”

“How long will it take?” Matt asked, looking to the time. They had an hour before doors - they were stretching for time as it was, having been caught up in traffic and turning up to the venue late. 

“Soundcheck without us, James and Ryan can cover me and Lance. We’ll go fix it and come back as soon as possible,” Keith decided, grabbing Lance’s hand and beginning to tug him out the venue. “It won’t take me long!”

“It better not!” James called, “I swear to god if you both are late because you start making ou-AH!”

Keith had handed Lance back his guitar, and while James was rambling, swiftly run over and jumped on him, tickling him and causing them both to crash to the ground. 

“Shut up!” Keith yelled. Lance forced a smile at the pair from a distance away, rubbing at his arm as his skin crawled and head began to throb. 

 

-

    The journey had been silent, though not painfully uncomfortable. Lance was too busy trying to concentrate on the road and not the way his skin crawled to chatter to Keith as he usually did. The radio played quietly between them, and he could distantly hear Keith humming along, keeping his gaze locked on the window, only occasionally glancing over to Lance. The whir of the heaters pulsed between them, and though it  _was_ freezing outside, Lance found himself far too hot. Keith looked cold, though, curled up into his jacket as much as possible, so he couldn't bring himself to turn them off.

“It’ll only take five minutes,” Keith had told Lance, as they pulled up in front of the shop. Keith began to climb out the van, heading to the back where Lance’s guitar was placed.  

“Uh, cool,” Lance forced a smile, scratching at his arm. “You, uh, go ahead. I’ll wait here. Where it’s warm.”

Keith gave him an odd look, and Lance almost flinched at how concerned he was. Keith tried to hide it, pressing his lips together in a tight line and nodding, before leaning across to kiss Lance on the cheek. 

“Fine. See you in a second,” he forced a smile, before traipsing to the front of the store. When Lance saw him walk inside and say an offhanded hello to Regris, before disappearing in the back, he let out a breath, reaching into his pocket.

 

-

 

When Keith came back, Lance jumped out his skin, breathing heavily, adrenaline pumping through his veins as though someone had just tried to attack him, _not_ that his boyfriend had literally just opened the door to the van. 

“Lance,” Keith sighed, and Lance could see him trying his best to hide the disappointment, but Lance could still see it in the way he folded his arms, turned away to avoid looking at him. “Your nose is bleeding again.”

Lance lifted a hand to his nose, and indeed it was bleeding again. “Oh,” he mumbled, his voice slightly hoarse, watching blood trickle down his hand. 

Keith sighed and the passenger door slammed shut with so much force Lance jolted. In seconds his own door opened, and Keith leaned in, holding out a couple of tissues. 

“We’re walking to the venue.” Keith muttered.

“I can drive-" 

“No, you can’t,” Keith retorted, and Lance could see the slight tremor in his hands, the worry flickering over his features. He was trying his best to hide it behind indifference, behind blunt wording. Lance had known him long enough now to know the signs of when Keith was on the verge of a breakdown, though. _This_ was one of those times.

Lance slowly climbed out his car, guilt choking his conscience. Keith was hugging onto himself, kicking at the floor with his scuffed boot, Lance’s guitar slung over his shoulder. 

“We’d better get going quick; we were running late as it was.”

“Does it work?” Lance asked. Keith either doesn’t hear him, or doesn’t want to reply, and simply starts walking. Lance followed quickly, heart pounding and thoughts racing through his mind so quickly he can barely process them. All he knew was that Keith was most certainly _mad_ at him. And he deserved to be, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Keith slowed, letting Lance catch up. It was only then he realised that he was walking far too _slowly,_ despite his thoughts racing so fast. Keith’s hand slipped into his, and he gave him a worried glance, his eyes distant and glazed, as he gave Lance’s hand a quick squeeze, and began to lead him towards the venue. 

 

-

 

“Lance, are you okay?” Allura had pulled Lance to the side when they’d returned. Keith had immediately been dragged off by James when they’d finished their sound check, claiming that he _needed_ to go get something to eat before he _died_ of hunger, leaving Lance alone and worried Keith was annoyed. Though he hadn’t said much, he had kissed Lance goodbye before he left, and he _knew_ that if Keith had a problem, he’d voice it, but Lance couldn’t help but think that he’d pushed Keith too far, somehow, or done _something_ that annoyed him. 

“I’m fine, Princess, no need to worry,” Lance tried to give her is signature, flirtatious smile, but from the way her frown deepened and her arms folded, he knew it didn’t work.  

“Lance, you know you can talk to me, right? If anything’s worrying you?” She tried, her voice soft. 

 Allura wasn’t one of Lance’s oldest friends, in fact, he hadn’t known her for too much longer than he’d known Keith; maybe a handful of months longer. But he and Allura had clicked so quickly, that Lance would trust her with his secrets just as much as he would his oldest friends. When he felt like he couldn’t talk to Hunk, because he was too close to home, he’d drive to Allura’s place and they’d sit in her garden, the sound of the churning water rippling in the lake, the fairy lights she’d hung in the trees glistening like the stars above them, as they spoke their darkest thoughts. She knew how lonely Lance felt, and had offered countless times for him to move in with her, but he’d refused. 

He was the only one save Coran who had known about her father, who had died when she was young of an illness. Coran had taken over his record company, Altea, and kept it alive in his memory. One day, Allura hoped to run it herself, once she’d learnt all she could about the industry in order to make the company the best it could possibly be. 

 And so, she had clearly thought that if Lance could talk to no one else about what was hurting him, he could tell _her._  

But he couldn’t. All he could say was: “just the usual, ‘Lura; I just don’t wanna go back to normal life again.”

She always felt the same way, so it was easy to convince her that that was all he was upset about. She gave him an understanding smile and pulled him into a hug.  

“We’ll be back out before you know it. Besides, I’m sure Keith’ll hardly keep your life _too_ normal.”

Lance chuckled, though it tasted bitter in his mouth, remembering how distant he’d become after he’d found Lance high again. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess.” 

“Don’t let your sadness of it ending ruin your last night, Lance. Enjoy it!” She patted him on the shoulder. “Now come on, Hunk and Pidge want us to come with them to get dinner before the show.”

 

-

 

   The final show was the best show of the tour, Keith had found. Everyone, though exhausted from hours of travelling and sleepless nights in strange cities, gave it their absolute all. Keith had been confident enough to let loose, even improvising during a guitar solo on their last song, and he'd sang and danced and cried when Lance played his acoustic song alone on that stage in the spotlight with the smoke...it was perfect. 

   So why was he standing here, after the show, hiding behind James and fearing for his life?

 "Keith, we need a word," Shiro had growled, folding his arms, his brow scrunched up in anger. 

   "Keith isn't here, sorry Shiro," James shrugged nonchalantly, as though his friend wasn't trying (and failing) to hide behind him. "He, uh, went back to the van with Lance. You don't wanna interrupt them, ugh," James shuddered. "No one should see what they get up to alone."

   "I need a word with you too, James," Shiro muttered.James shrunk back, and soon they were both holding onto each other, waiting for the onslaught. "How  _could_ you push Keith into the crowd and make him crowd surf?! That's  _dangerous_!"

   "You were at the front. I  _literally_ helped him sit on your shoulders, Shiro. That's not crowdsurfing."

   "What if I wasn't there? He could've gotten hurt!"

   "Well he didn't!" James retorted. "He had fun! Stop being such a grandpa!"

   "You're not allowed to steal my ice cream anymore," Shiro growled, the corner of his lip tilting up. James  _screamed_ as though he'd been shot.

   "But Shiro!"

   "I need a drink," Keith muttered, rubbing his temples and pointedly looking away from the wide-eyed look James was giving him. " _Yes,_ I'll get you one."

   On his way to the bar, he sees Lance and gives him a small wave. Lance was still laughing with his siblings Veronica and who he believed to be Sophia, as well as a handful of fans. Keith smiled to himself, glad Lance at least had two members of his family visit him.

   As he stepped up to the bar, he noticed the barman he hooked up with before was working, again. He swallowed, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt nervously, hoping to turn back without being spotted, but the barman had already waved with a sly, sleazy smile on his pointed face. 

   Keith wondered what the hell he had been  _thinking_ that night.

   He took his order, noticing the way the man's eyes slid up and down his body, as though reminiscing how he'd looked under him that night. Keith shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself, images of  _another_ night flashing across his mind, of running in the cold and rain and how he'd made Shiro crash his  _car_ and lose his  _arm_ and-

   The drinks smacking onto the table jolted him out of his thoughts. He took a deep breath and handed the man a fistful of money. The man took the money and kept a tight hold of his hand, kissing it and giving him a smirk. 

   "We had fun, last time. Maybe you could head to back to mine when I close up," he winked, and Keith felt another shudder go through his body. 

   His breath caught in his throat and he felt cold hands crawl over his skin. He shivered and trembled, barely gathering that the man was leaning over the bar to brush his hair behind his ear. He was too busy trying to  _breathe_ and get his frozen limbs to  _move_ that he barely noticed the cold breath on his neck or the stale scent of alcohol.

   A door slammed somewhere distant, and it was thankfully enough to bring Keith back to his senses. He clenched his fist and threw it into the man's jaw before he could kiss his cheek. 

   "Get the fuck away from me!" Keith snapped, throwing the pint at the man and racing out the venue's back doors for some air. His breathing came harshly and he struggled to ease the tightness in his chest, frantically looking around and realising he was in a back alley behind the venue. 

    _What can you see?_

Keith could see graffiti on the wall in front of him, he could see two silhouetted figures talking to the left of him, he could see the moon above, full and  _cold,_ drowning in the darkened abyss of the sky, black clouds smothering the stars above him.

   He could  _see_ the cracks in the concrete under his feet, how the ground was slick with rain that's beating down on him.

   He could  _see_ one of the silhouetted figures approaching quickly, could only just hear a deep and gruff, and frighteningly familiar voice yelling at him. 

    _"You!_ " 

   He could see a fist flying right towards his face, then the grey, sodden concrete quickly rising closer to meet him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _All his fault. ___
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _It was all his fault. First Adam, then Shiro._  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _And now, Lance._  
>  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ BEFORE READING THE CHAPTER, THANK YOU!!!!
> 
> TW: A scene in this chapter contains an overdose, and I've tried my best to make it as realistic as possible - it is graphic and is meant to be unsettling. If you cannot read that sort of thing, please skip the scene between the double -- that will be bolded. Normal scenes will be broken up with only one - 
> 
> If you need to ask any questions or anything before you read I will gladly answer as soon as I can! Just dm me or send me an ask at my voltron tumblr here: https://tumblingoverboard.tumblr.com/
> 
> This is the second to last chapter, everyoneeee! I hope you enjoy it. I can't believe it's almost over already!! The final chapter will be up on Monday! <3

   Lance ignored the yells of Hunk calling him to come back, letting the doors of the venue slam behind him as he escaped the stuffy and crowded atmosphere, running out into the cold and deserted streets. Rain from an oncoming storm hammered down onto him, soaking him and his thin set of clothes to the bone. He could barely  _breathe_ from the anger pulsing through him, and when he was  _sure_ no one was following him (of course they wouldn't - the only person who  _cared_ was probably getting on his knees for the barman), he let out a scream, stopping and letting his fist plummet into a wall. 

    _That fucking cheating, lying bastard._

   Lance had thought it would be  _different_ this time. He thought  _Keith_ was different. After all he'd done for him - how he'd opened himself up, allowed Keith to see the most vulnerable parts of him,  even when he was still aching from the last time he'd been betrayed and backstabbed, Keith had ripped his healing heart out and made it irrepairable. 

   Lance was  _pissed_ at Keith, sure, but he was  _furious_ at himself. He was an idiot - he should have known from his long history of one night stands with whoever showed even the  _slightest_ bit of interest, that Keith wasn't any different. He was just like  _her_ , taking advantage of Lance's kindness, crawling his way into Lance's heart, taking what he wanted - someone to lean on, someone to drive him while his brother was in hospital, a source of extra money to help pay his brother's medical bills by being in his band, a space to fill in his bed while he had no  _time_ to go out and hunt for others. And now he'd gotten everything he needed, he'd just moved on without a word, left Lance  with blood running down his knuckles, freezing and shivering in the rain. 

   How did he not realise? How could  _Keith_ sit there and let that barman flirt and  _kiss_ him when he  _knew_ Lance was there, when he knew that  _Lance_ knew they'd hooked up in the past. 

   Are they going to hook up tonight?

   Lance felt rage bubble and boil over inside him, tugging out his phone and deciding to call him there and then, to call him out on it. But, as a photo of the two of them flashed up on his lockscreen, he felt all anger bubble away. 

   Keith hadn't used him for money from the band - he'd emptied his bank account just so that Lance could pay for his drugs and not end up being beaten or worse for not paying up. He'd been there when Lance was at his loneliest, he'd shown him that hill top, he'd sat with Lance every time he'd gotten too high or too fucked up, he'd  _been there_ for him. All Lance had to do was send a text, and Keith would be there in a heartbeat.

   Maybe he should give him a chance. Maybe they just needed to talk?

   Maybe he needed to give Keith a chance to break up with him.

   He'd somehow found himself at Keith's flat, though of course he wasn't there. He probably hadn't even noticed he'd left. 

   He looked back to his phone, and decided to text him. 

    _Keith, we need to talk. I'm at your flat._

 

_-_

 

   Lance leant his head up against Keith's flat door, sitting in the hall, feeling so damn  _pathetic_ and  _stupid_ for giving Keith a second chance. It had an hour, and Keith hadn't even  _read_ his text message. All he had was five missed calls from Hunk. 

   Lance couldn't even feel angry anymore. He simply let tears dribble down his cheeks, devastation weighing down in his chest.

    _Why wasn't he enough?_

He jolted at the sound of his phone ringing. He checked it, and felt the weight in his chest grow when he realised it was only Hunk. 

   Lance answered it, not wanting to cause Hunk uneccassary worry. 

   "Lance! Where are you? You just disappeared on me!"

   Lance tried to speak, to say he was okay, not to worry about him, but all that came out was a choked sob, followed by another, and another, until he was crying messily into the phone speaker. 

   "Hey, buddy, calm down. Where are you? I'll come get you. What's up?" Hunk rambled. He probably wasn't used to Lance showing this much emotion - it had been  _years_ since Lance had cried in front of  _anyone_ but Keith - Hunk didn't know how to deal with it. 

   "Keith..." Lance choked out. "He's...he's like  _her_."

   "W-What?!" Hunk muttered, shocked. It soon fell away to anger. "That asshole! I wondered why he disappeared out back! Lance, where are you? Lance?! You better not hang-"

   Lance threw his phone at the wall with a cry, it shattering into pieces on the ground.

 

-

 

   James looked around the venue, biting his lip. It was slowly emptying out now, fans leaving for their trains or rides home. Security guards were trying their best to ease everyone out so they could pack up, while Matt, Veronica and Romelle were running back and forth trying to pack up their equipment. 

   Neither Lance nor Keith were around, and he was growing increasingly concerned. Keith had only gone to get them both a drink, right? Had Lance dragged him away? They wouldn't be gone for  _this long_ , though, would they?

   From across the venue, he noticed Hunk give him  _another_ dirty look and clenched his fists, about to storm over and ask what the  _fuck_ his problem was, when a hand placed itself on his shoulder.

   "Keith-oh." James turned and looked up to see Ryan, who frowned.

   "Wow, sorry I'm not your  _best_ best friend, I guess," Ryan shrugged with an eye roll. "Is everything alright? You don't look too good."

   "I'm fine, just worried. Keith's disappeared and that  _fucking_ guy over there won't stop glaring at me."

   "Who? Matt?" Ryan frowned, looking in the vague direction James had pointed to, confused. 

   "No,  _Hunk_."

   "Hunk?!" Ryan looked to James in disbelief. "Are you sure? How much have you drunk tonight?"

   "I haven't drunk  _anything_ because Keith said he'd get me a drink about twenty minutes ago but he's disappeared."

   Ryan scanned the venue, brow furrowing as he grew increasingly concerned. "Lance isn't here, either. Maybe they're together?"

   "I sure hope so, but I've got a bad feeling. Come look with me?" James asked, looking up to Ryan with pleading eyes. He felt uneasy - Keith would  _never_ disappear on him without at least sending him a text first. He  _knew_ how much James worried. He didn't feel like looking for them alone.

   Ryan let out a long sigh. "Fine. If I get scarred for life because we catch them both doing something we shouldn't see,  _I_ get first dibs in our bathroom in the morning for the next tow months.  _And_ you're packing up my equipment for me tonight."

   James huffed, folding his arms. " _Fine_. Let's go." He grabbed Ryan's arm and dragged him through the venue. They checked backstage, only finding Pidge sitting in the corner playing some form of videogame (she hadn't seen either Keith nor Lance pass by after the show). They'd then moved to the bar (and James realised the barman was the weird guy Keith had hooked up with that one time... _ew_ ), to no success, then out the front of the venue. Some fans loitered about, and Veronica was outside, talking in a rushed heap on a phone. 

   "C'mon, please, just answer the phone. I'm getting worried," Veronica had mumbled under the loud howling of the wind.

   "He's not here?" James tried calling Keith again. Each time it rang out to voicemail. 

   "Let's try out the back of the venue," Ryan suggested, "maybe they've gone out back to smoke away from the fans?"

   "There's a back to the venue?"

   "Uh, yeah?"

   James followed Ryan around to the back, down a dark and dingy alley with graffiti lining the walls. Everything seemed so distant, here, all sounds from the busy street behind them muffled. 

   At the far end of the alley, they could see two figures. James had first thought they'd found both Keith and Lance - one silhouette was pinning the other to the wall, and considered turning on his heel and leaving them to it (then scolding Keith for it later, because an alleyway was definitely  _not_ the place to do...that.)

   Ryan, however, must have seen something else, because before he could suggest they leave them, Ryan had pushed James back far enough to fall off balance, charging towards the two. 

   "Hey! Let him go!" Ryan yelled. 

   James rushed to his feet and followed, noticing that the man was certainly  _not_ Lance. He was taller, bulkier, and was pinning Keith to the wall by his throat. 

   Ryan pulled the man off of Keith and shouted for James to call Curtis. 

   James did just that. He'd given James his number ages ago, just after Shiro had lost his arm, behind Keith's back, so he could keep an eye on Keith while they weren't talking.

   "James, everything alright?"

   "Come out the back of the venue. Now. Bring security," James mumbled, voice trembling as he raced over t Keith. The line had cut dead, but James didn't notice, too busy pulling Keith to his feet and dragging him away from the scene. 

   Ryan kept the man pinned to the wall. James hadn't seen him before - why was he targeting Keith?

   "You fucking embarrassed me the last time we met, you prick!" The man screamed at a trembling Keith. "Thinking you're all smart paying out your junkie friend and punching me in the face! See where that ends you up!"

   "It ends _you_ up in jail, dumbass!" James growled. The man tried to surge forward, and Ryan almost lost his grip, only just managing to keep a hold of him. 

   "Hey!" Curtis rounded the corner with a couple of security guards in tow. The guards took the man from Ryan, allowing him to relax. Shiro followed suite. 

   "I  _told_ you to wait in hte venue!" Curtis yelled at Shiro, helping the guards take the struggling criminal away.

   Shiro ignored him and ran towards Keith, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

   "Keith, are you okay?" he panicked. "James, what happened?"

   James found himself unable to speak, simply shaking his head. 

   "I'm gonna get him back inside," James mumbled, removing his jacket and wrapping it around Keith's shoulders. Shiro helped James lead him back into the venue. 

-

 

   Keith took two steps into the venue, still held up by Shiro, when Hunk approached him with an expression on his face he'd never seen before.

    _Rage._

   " _You_!" Hunk shoved him away from James and Shiro, gripping tightly onto the collar of his t-shirt. "You cheating bastard!"

   The world shifted a little as Keith was knocked out of Hunk's grip, crashing to the ground. Through his blurry vision, he saw James shoving Hunk back and yelling, Ryan trying to keep the two apart while Shiro helped Keith back to his feet. 

   "Get the  _fuck_ away from him!" James snarled, fists clenched and ready to throw a punch.

   Hunk pointed an accusing finger at Keith, glaring at him with venom flooding his tone as he spat: "how can you defend him?! He was cheating on Lance!"

Keith froze, throat closing up, his vision sharpening, ready to mutter out a: ‘ _what?!’_ But James beat him to it with a bitter laugh, gripping onto the collar of Hunk’s t-shirt and pulling him close.

“James, Hunk, _calm down_!” Ryan tried, but his words fell on death ears.

“And when did he manage to do that, huh? He’s been with me and Shiro this whole time?” James snarled as threateningly as he could while stepping on his tiptoes to bring himself up to Hunk’s height.

“Just now he was flirting with that guy at the bar he hooked up with the last time we played a show together,” Hunk snarled. “ _Lance_ saw it - and look at his _neck_ \- it’s obvious! And now Lance is gone and _none of us_ can find him!”

“Whatever happens to him is _your fault_ , Kogane!” He tried to push forward out of James’s grip towards Keith, but Ryan grabbed his shoulders to stop him.

Hunk’s eyes were crazed, but to Keith’s surprise, not with the fiery rage that consumed his words and tone of voice. Instead, they were flooded with fear. 

Tears began to trickle down his cheeks and his shoulders slumped, burying his head in his hands. “Oh god…what if he…shit!”

James’s lips became a thin line, his brow knitted together. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. “You have a lot of nerve blaming Keith for something he didn’t do,” he growled. “He was with me, Shiro and Curtis - we literally _just_ found him being beaten up by Lance’s _drug dealer_ because _apparently_ Keith cashed him out of a hard place one time-“ James grew more enraged with each word, Ryan having to step between the two once more.

“James!” Keith snapped, cutting him off. James’s eyes widened when he realised the slip-up.

“His…his _what_?!” Hunk looked between them both. “What do you mean? Keith?”

Keith doesn’t say anything, his thoughts final collecting together and realising that Lance had _ran away_ thinking Keith was _cheating_ on him. This couldn’t be good - he had to find him.

He pushed away from Shiro and past Hunk, despite his calls of apologies and his questions, James following at his heel.

“Keith, wait! I’m sorry-“ James called after him, hand clenching in the material of his jacket, trying to tug him to stop.

“It’s okay, James,” Keith reassured, because his poor friend sounded on the verge of tears as the adrenaline and shock caught up with him. “I just…I need to find Lance. Now.”

“I’ll drive you - where do you think he’ll be?”

Keith didn’t answer, pushing through the crowd of fans and band members, walking out the venue with James following suite, to MFE’s van. James climbs into the drivers seat while Keith pulls out his phone to dial Lance’s number. He notices a couple of text messages from Lance, and his heart leaps into his throat.

**_Lance:_** _Can we talk? Meet me at your flat,_ was sent half an hour after their set had ended. Only five minutes ago, Lance had sent another message. 

_Fuck you, Keith. I knew you were just like her. I hope he was worth it._

“Home, take me home!” James quickly nodded and started the engine, going at least twenty above the speed limit as they drove to the apartment block.

James waited while Keith ran up into their apartment, a sinking feeling in his stomach telling him that Lance probably wasn’t there anymore.

“Lance?!” He called, attempting to push open the door. It was locked, which left Keith with little hope. Still, he searched all the rooms in hope that Lance was here, that he was safe and okay. 

He wasn’t.

Keith rushed back down, barely remembering to lock the door behind him. James was out the van now, on the phone.

“No luck?” James muttered, “shit. Shiro and Curtis are searching in their car - Curtis has asked everyone at the station to keep an eye out. Hunk, Veronica and the others are out looking, too.”

Keith nodded, trying to think of all the places Lance could go, trying to call Lance’s number. Each time went straight through to that stupid voicemail message. 

Keith huffed, resisting the urge to throw his phone on the floor. Instead, he took a deep breath, and said: “James, I need you to go to the shop and see if he’s there. Get Hunk to check Lance’s flat,” Keith ordered, taking a deep breath and swallowing down his nerves as he pulled out a key that he hadn’t used _for_ years from his set.

“What about you?” James asked as Keith rushed to his bike, his heart hammering in his chest. He pushed away the images of red and blue flashing lights and the sounds of tires screeching on tarmac away from the forefront of his mind, focusing on _Lance_ and getting him _safe_ as he climbed onto the seat.

“I’m trying the hilltop,” Keith muttered, starting the engine. 

“The _what_? Wait, what are you - _Keith_?!” 

“Get everyone to call me the _second_ they have anything, okay?” Keith told James.

“Keith, your helmet! For fucks sake!” James stood in front of Keith’s bike, slamming his hands onto the handlebars, stopping him from riding away. “He can wait two seconds for you to get your damn helmet. I am not letting what happened _last time_ happen again.”

 

** \-- **

 

It was just like last time, the wind soaring around him and making him feel like he was flying, lights flashing by as he sped above the speed limit, racing through the streets with a crazed frenzy. 

Eventually, the lights dimmed out and only the one on his bike led the way, trees and their scraggly branches trying to swipe at him as he sped uphill. His phone remained still in his pocket - no one had found Lance yet, which only spurred him to go faster.

Eventually, he reached the top of the hill, his eyes scanning the perimeter. He spotted a figure sitting on the rails, feet swinging precariously off the edge. 

Keith stopped so quickly he skidded and almost toppled over, but he managed to keep himself upright, jumping off his bike and barely killing the engine before running over. “Lance! Wait!”

Lance stared back at him, the howling wind rippling through his locks of hair. He looked manic, eyes blown wide and blood smeared over his upper lip. There was a sickly sheen to his skin, from both sweat and the numerous tears cascading down his flushed cheeks. One hand pointed to him, shaking, whilst the other clutched onto his chest as though he was in pain.  

Keith felt a stab in his chest at the look of pure venom in Lance’s eyes.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Lance screams at Keith, pushing him away. Keith steadied himself on the rail, watching Lance almost curl in on himself, tears dribbling down his cheeks. 

“Lance, whatever you think, it isn’t true, I promise, I-“ 

“SHUT UP!” Lance yells, tugging at strands of his hair. His chest is heaving, he’s hyperventilating. Keith _needs_ to get help, but he’s scared of moving, scared that one wrong action will send Lance into a bigger frenzy than he’s already in. 

He pulled out his phone and frantically text James, knowing he’d need help. 

**Keith:** _Found him. At the hilltop - tell Shiro._

__ **James:** _We’re on our way. Stay safe xx_

“Are you texting him?” Lance snapped. Keith looked up quickly, almost butting heads with Lance from how close he’d gotten. 

“I…what?” Keith stuttered, confused.

“Are you texting _him_?!” 

“Lance, you’re not making any sense,” Keith tried to step forward, but Lance started to scream.

“THAT GUY! THE ONE _YOU_ WERE FLIRTING WITH?!WHAT DOES HE HAVE, KEITH?!” Lance’s yells became unintelligible as he began to sob, sinking to his knees. “Why am I never enough?” Lance whimpered, his voice barely audible over the thrashing wind. 

“Lance, I…that wasn’t…I wasn’t…” Keith was at a loss for words. “You’re more than enough, Lance, I promise-“

Lance laughed, almost hysterically as he folded in on himself, before getting shakily back to his feet, almost stumbling back down again. Keith watched, unnerved.

“Then why did you let that guy kiss you at the bar? The one you hooked up with last time?”

“Lance, he…I told him I had a boyfriend. He backed off,” Keith mumbled. 

Lance narrowed his glacial eyes at him, “that’s _hilarious._ Of course you turned him away - you have a _great history_ after all.”

Keith mirrored Lance’s glare, fists clenching. “I’ve never cheated on _anyone_ , Lance.”

“But you’ve slept around - that’s close enough!” Lance laughed and yet tears were streaming down his flushed cheeks. “Why didn’t you just tell me that I wasn’t enough for you?” Lance choked on his words, clutching onto his head with a groan in pain. Keith spotted the small ziplock bag on the grass not far away. 

_Fuck._

“Lance, look, you’re not yourself right now. Let’s get you back home in bed with Blue, we can talk about this tomorrow when we’re both in a better place, before we say something we will regret.” Keith eased forwards, ready to put his helmet onto Lance and whisk him home so he can come down and get some rest. 

He managed to get one hand on Lance’s shoulder before he’s shoved back so hard he falls back onto the floor, dropping his helmet. 

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Lance snarled. “JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! GO BACK WITH THAT…WHOEVER THE FUCK THAT…” He stumbled back. Keith jumped to his feet, trying to step closer. Lance took another step back. “I KNOW I DON’T DESERVE YOU! I KNOW I DON’T-“ Lance let out a groan in pain, clutching onto his head again. “Keith…Keith I…I don’t feel…”

Keith raced to catch Lance as he fell. Lance heaved and vomited onto the ground. Keith rubbed his back, trying to calm him with a shaking and trembling voice as Lance began to sob even harder. “It’s okay, Lance, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” he mumbled, vision blurring with his own tears as Lance’s legs completely gave out from under them, and he had to ease Lance to lie on the ground.

His own heart beat began to race because this definitely wasn’t _normal_ \- sure, Lance had been sick before when he’d overdone it, but he’d never been so delirious, in so much _pain._ With shaking hands, he managed to call James.

“James, where are you?”

“Almost there, why?”

“I-I need to speak to Curtis.”

“I’ll put you on speaker.”

“Keith? Are you okay?” Shiro’s voice comes through.

“What’s wrong?” Curtis called.

“Lance has - he’s taken cocaine and he’s…he’s not so good, he-he’s just thrown up everywhere and he’s too warm and..he won’t stop shaking and I…what do I do?” He asked between sobs.

“You hang up and call an ambulance!” Shiro snapped into the phone. “He’s overdosing!”

“Shiro, not helping!” Curtis snapped. “Keith, I need you to take a deep breath, can you do that for me?”

Keith does so, hand clutching onto Lance’s tightly as Lance continues to sob into Keith’s lap.

“Now, James is calling an ambulance with my phone, so you’re okay, help is coming. I’ll stay here with you - I need you to make sure Lance’s body temperature stays normal, okay? You said he’s too warm, right? Take off his jacket.”

Keith does just that, feeling Lance beginning to tremble and shake. 

“The ambulance are on their way, Keith,” Curtis mumbled. “We’re almost there, too, okay? Just stay calm for me and for Lance, you’re doing so well. Is Lance responding to you?”

“N-No. Shiro, what if he-“

“Nope, don’t even go there, Keith, he’s going to be _fine_ ,” Shiro muttered, and Keith can hear a distant engine. “We can see you, Keith.”

Before the car had even stopped moving James was jumping out, still talking on the phone. He knelt down besides Keith, placing an arm around him and pulling him close. 

“I’m with him now. No, he’s not seizing, he’s just shaking - he’s breathing heavily,” James began to shift Lance over onto his side, into a recovery position. 

It felt like _hours_ before the ambulance arrived, their sirens alerting that they were heading towards them. Keith felt Shiro, who had at some point sat the other side of him and pulled him into a tight hug, let out a breath of relief. He pulled Keith away from Lance as the paramedics began to work on him, carrying him into the back of the ambulance.

“You go with him, Keith. We’ll follow right behind,” Shiro mumbled, and Keith found himself riding in the back of an ambulance, the sirens wailing distantly in the back of his mind as he held onto Lance’s hand.

His hand is only pried away from Lance’s when they’re being dragged through the hospital, a doctor practically running by Lance’s bedside as he’s taken straight into surgery.

He’d began seizing in the ambulance and Keith couldn’t remember if he himself threw up or not, but there was a bitter, acidic taste on his tongue and he couldn’t stop shaking. 

James held onto him tightly, his own body trembling from both shock and fear. Keith couldn’t even bring himself to cry as he watched Lance get carried away - he was sure even if he _did_ manage to muster enough energy to do so, he would have no tears left anyway.

**\--**  


“HEY!” A shout jolted Keith out of his daze, James jumping in front of him, almost straight after being shoved back into him. 

“YOU! _YOU_ DID THIS TO HIM!”

Keith flinched, James trying to stop him from looking round to see who was trying to attack him. He already knew who it was, however: Marco.

Keith stood numbly as Marco screamed insult after insult at Keith, shoving James and therefore Keith back with every word. “IF MY LITTLE BROTHER DIES, IT’S ALL _YOUR_ FAULT!” He screamed. 

Shiro and Curtis, who had both left as soon as they entered the hospital to get Keith and James water, rounded the corner at the sound of the commotion. They both rushed over to hold James back before he could try and tear the McClain’s eldest son’s throat out.

Keith felt his legs give out, crashing to his knees, staring numbly at the doors Lance had been pushed through.

 

_All his fault._

 

It was all his fault. First Adam, then Shiro.

 

_And now, Lance._

 

-  


 

Time had become meaningless to Keith once more - sitting for what seemed like forever in the sterile halls of the hospital, the horrid smell of antiseptic in the air, the blinding white walls and the _memories._ Memories of screeching tires, of Lance’s hysterical sobs, the beeping of the monstrous machines connected to Shiro -

The feeling of Lance’s hand in his as they visited Shiro, reminding him every time that he wasn’t facing any of this _alone_. 

And now, he was. James, Curtis and Shiro (and Marco) had been kicked out of the waiting room for the scene they’d caused, leaving Keith sitting on the uncomfortable and _blue_ plastic chairs as he fidgeted relentlessly. Every time a nurse walked past or a door opened, his head would dart up, his stomach would flip - because at this point, Keith didn’t care what kind of news he got, as long as it was _something_.

Another set of footsteps approached, but Keith was verging on the ends of consciousness. He’d most definitely been up well over 24 hours this point, and though he tried his best to keep awake, his eyes were closing against his will. He assumed it was just a nurse doing early morning rounds, but the footsteps gradually slowed to stop in front of him. 

Keith felt _sick_ , and wearily looked up, expecting to see a sullen-faced doctor, most likely just like what Shiro had seen after he and Adam had gotten into that accident.

_“Your brother has scraped through and you will be able to visit him as soon as he wakes up. Unfortunately the other gentleman with him wasn’t so lucky-“_

Whoever it was had taken a seat next to him, the sound of creaking plastic jolting him out of his thoughts. He turned, wondering if the doctor was going to break to him gently that he was too late, or to kick him out of the hospital and tell him to _go home_. 

Instead, it was Veronica. Her hair was a mess, ruffled and slightly static from where she’d clearly been tugging at it. Her cheeks were rubbed raw and her eyes were bloodshot, her glasses slightly crooked.

Keith flinched, ready for another set of blame to be thrown at him as a result of fear and shock. Instead, she offered Keith a cardboard cup of hot chocolate.

He took it gratefully, unable to muster anything but a small nod in thanks, taking careful sips and letting the sugar and warmth soothe his nerves, if a little. 

“Keith,” Veronica began, her voice merely a hoarse whisper. Her hands shook a little as she held her own cup. “ _Thank you_.”

Keith almost choked on his drink. 

“What?” _Why_ was Veronica thanking him? Thanking him for potentially killing her younger brother?

“ _You_ saved him, Keith. If it wasn’t for you, he…he’d be…” A tear ran down Veronica’s cheek. She wiped it away quickly. “Thank you for finding him. I know…I know you were trying your best to keep an eye on him, to keep him safe, and I…I can’t thank you enough for that. Don’t listen to Marco, he doesn’t know how to deal with hurt and…he hasn’t seen what you’ve done for Lance. How much happier, healthier he’s been since he’d met you and…I’m grateful for that. I’m glad he had someone he felt he could talk to. Marco’s just upset that Lance didn’t feel he could come to him.”

It made sense, Keith guessed. He’d be in the same position if it was Shiro in Lance’s place.

“He’s going to be okay, Keith,” Veronica mumbled, though it sounded more like she was reassuring herself more than reassuring Keith. “He’s strong. He’ll make it through, I know he will.”

Keith hoped he was right.

 

-

 

James had snuck back into the hospital a couple of hours later, and it was in the waiting room that both he and Keith slept, leant up against each other as the hospital went along with its morning check ups and breakfast runs. They slept through it all, right up until a kindly woman with hazel eyes and the same small, freckled nose that Lance had, tapped them on the shoulder.

Keith opened his eyes and yawned, stretching as James groaned and lifted his head up, cracking his neck. 

“Which one of you is Keith?” She asked, looking between the two. A man stood not so far away, rubbing his arm nervously. He had the same blue eyes as Lance, but darker hair.

James nudged Keith out of his daze

“Uh, I am…why?” He mumbled.

“Lance is okay,” the woman started. Keith felt tears of relief build up in his eyes. “He’s ready to have visitors, too. He hasn’t woken up yet, but I thought you’d want to see him,” she mumbled quietly, hand placing itself gently in Keith’s to help him up. Her eyes hovered over James, who jumped to his feet.

“I’ll go, it’s okay. Keep me updated, okay?” He squeezed Keith’s shoulder and gave him a smile. Keith nodded back, unable to smile himself, as they parted ways.

Keith followed the two adults down the hall, catching the awkward, tense air between them. The lady seemed friendly enough, guiding Keith through the halls and sending him warm, reassuring smiles. 

“I’m Lance’s mother,” she introduces. “You can call me Maria. It’s nice to meet you, Keith.

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you too,” Keith nodded, looking to the other man with a frown.

 

_Is that Lance’s father?_

 

“Ah, this is Alex - Lance’s Papa,” she introduced, her jaw clenched a little, her tone clipped.

His father made no acknowledgement of Keith. Keith turned away from him with his jaw clenched.

The rest of the walk was increasingly more awkward, right up until Maria stopped them in front of a door. “He’s in here. We’ll give you some time alone with him, won’t we, Alexander?”

The man finally looked to Keith with a firm gaze. Eventually, he nodded.

“Thanks,” Keith nodded again, taking a deep breath, before stepping into the small room

Keith was glad Lance had managed to get a private room - Marco had probably convinced whatever higher power it took to let him have one. He was sure Lance wouldn’t like being cooped up in a ward with others - he’d be embarrassed, nervous. Keith was glad, because he didn’t want _anyone_ to see how he took one look at Lance - who looked so small surrounded by all those heavy, intimidating machines - and collapsed to his knees in a fit of sobs.

 

-

 

When Lance woke, everything was white, like a blank canvas had been hung up directly before his eyes. The lights above him were way too bright, the smell of antiseptic and the bright walls all so overwhelmingly _clean._

There was a dull throbbing pain in the back of his hand, and he lifted it a little to realise that there were wires connected to it. He frowned, trying to shuffle to sit up and work out where he was, but he couldn’t move; not when there was a weight pressed on his stomach

He lifted his head as much as his exhausted muscles could allow, his vision swimming a little. He saw a clump of black hair in the shape of a very familiar (and terrible) mullet, buried in the covers pooling at Lance’s stomach. The black mullet was connected was connected to a hoodie - a navy blue hoodie that was most certainly Lances’ or at least, his until Keith had claimed it-

_Keith_.

Lance wanted to reach out and smooth the hair out of his face, but he couldn’t find the energy to move his hands. Instead, he turned to his right, vaguely hearing someone call his name. 

For the first time since they’d broken apart, Lance’s mother and father were sitting in the same room. More than that, they were sitting _next_ to each other.

They were there, together, for _him_.

And, as Lance let his head drop back down to the pillow, the soft snores from Keith and the sound of a beeping monitor filtering through the room, the sight of his mama and papa together playing in his mind, a warmth filled Lance’s chest. 

Lance settled back down, letting his eyes close, and he rested. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Hunk acted a little ooc this chapter but honestly I feel like being as close to Lance as he is, he would lose it a little if he found out someone had hurt Lance. I wish we could have seen something like that in canon. :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith owed the rest of his life to Lance, and that was exactly what he planned on giving him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAH it's the last chapter!! I'm so happy with how it turned out, but I'm also so sad that it's finished. I'm gonna miss writing it so much :( 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this last chapter! It's so full of fluff it's actually ridiculous, haha. 
> 
> It's in the playlist I always have linked at the bottom, but if anyone wanted some music to listen to to create a mood for the last chapter, here is a link to the song that inspired the idea for this whole fic, Good Times by All Time Low: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PCg_anj5kWc
> 
> ((EDIT: There's a small edit to the scene where Keith and Lance are riding to the hill top - I completely forgot a real important thing that literally resolves the whole ordeal that happened last chapter. I don't know how I forgot it but I guess I'm a bigger dumbass than I thought (how that's even possible I'll never know) so if you've read this already and wanna check that out you can, but it's not too much so it's not like a real important thing you *have* to go back and read if you don't want to <3))

“Goddammit, Keith, could you stop squirming for _one_ second!” Lance hissed, followed by an exasperated huff as he had to restart the braid _yet again_ , brushing through Keith’s hair with a little more force than necessary. “We’re going to be _late_.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “It was your idea to do a stupid braid in the first place!”

“Well _excuse me_ for being the only one who understands fashion out of the two of us,” Lance muttered. Keith was tempted to move just out of spite, but time truly was pressing on, so he stayed still, letting Lance finish the braid. 

“There!” Lance finished tying his hair up, putting a hand on Keith’s cheek and urging him to turn, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “Beautiful. Now let’s go before we’re late! If I miss Pidge in a dress because of _you_ , you owe me my own damn wedding, mister.”

Keith chuckled nervously, fiddling with the red tie on his suit. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get us there in time, princess.” Keith shoved Lance playfully as they walked through their apartment. Lance poked his head into their bedroom, finding Blue sprawled out on their carpet, yawning.

“See ya, Blue!” Lance called, following Keith out of the apartment and down to the parking lot. They opted for Keith’s bike for speed, Lance putting on his blue helmet and climbing behind Keith, placing his hands on his hips and smiling. 

“Wow, I gotta tell Nadia that my boyfriend’s cooler than hers - James’s new car is _nothin’_ on this ba-ah!”

Keith chuckled as he sped out the parking lot, Lance holding on tightly and savouring the feeling of cuddling Keith as they raced through the streets and to the city hall. 

Already there was a small group of people waiting outside, dressed in an array of different colours. Keith pulled up next to James’s car, them both jumping off and heading towards the group of people.

“Making an entrance as always, I see,” James clapped Lance on the back with a smile, pulling Keith into a hug. “How was the show last week? I heard _someone_ got to play a guitar solo for Marmora.” James lifted an eyebrow and gave Keith a nudge.

“It was alright,” Keith shrugged, suppressing a smile.  

“ _Alright?!_ You played guitar with our _heroes_!” James squawked. Lance sniggered and wrapped an arm around Keith’s shoulder.

“He’s pretending to be all nonchalant right now but the kid almost cried with Kolivan had given him the offer.” Lance dodged a punch from Keith as James laughed. 

“How’re you and Nadia, James?” Keith asked through grit teeth as he gripped a screeching Lance in a headlock so he could mess up his hair. 

As though the scene before him was perfectly normal (because, quite frankly, it _was_ ), James answered with a shy smile, saying: “I took her out on our second date last week, just down to the coast. It’s early days but…she’s great.” His cheeks tinted pink. Keith cleared his throat and James rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know I still owe you that meal. Stop looking at me like that!”

Lance cooed and awed after finally managing to wrestle himself away from Keith, asking James all sorts of questions about their dates, and Keith pretended he didn’t know that Lance was looking for date ideas himself, instead looking through the small crowd for Shiro and Curtis. 

Instead of having a traditional wedding with flamboyant ceremonies and the church and people making speeches…Keith shuddered just thinking about it (as did Shiro when Maria and Curtis’s mother both suggested it), both Shiro and Curtis had opted for a more relaxed celebration with only a small handful of friends and family. Curtis and Shiro were simply going to sign their papers and say their vows whilst everyone cried (mainly Lance - he’s already cried twice today and it isn’t even _his_ wedding), then they were all going to head down to the local venue that Matt helped Shiro hire out, where they’d ‘get wasted’ (Pidge’s words), or ‘cha-cha slide ’til we cha-cha die’ (Lance’s words.)

Keith would rather not do either. Lance had said that he was _boring_.

James’s band were also playing a small set of Shiro and Curtis’s favourite songs (one day James and Keith had definitely not broken into their apartment and searched through their extensive and eclectic CD collection for inspiration). It was the reason why only James out of the MFE’s was currently at the initial ceremony, and why Matt ‘couldn’t make it.’

Eventually he’d found Shiro, at least, talking to Maria. After finding out about Lance’s addiction, she’d tried to get Keith to tell her why - for weeks they’d sat in the hospital room together while Lance was sleeping, her trying to pry the answers out of him. She was _desperate_ to find out what was hurting her son so much, so she could try and protect him from it. In the end, she understood it wasn’t Keith’s place to tell. 

After a few weeks of therapy sessions, Lance had met up with his mother at her home, just the two of them, over endless cups of tea as Lance bravely told her from the beginning exactly what had happened and how he _felt_ being so torn apart in his broken family. His mother had cried and even now still apologised for making Lance feel such a way. She was trying her best to make it up to him; they met up almost every week, and when they weren’t talking in person, she was sending him a text or a call. She’d also been to every show they’d played since Lance was ready to play shows again - however few and far between they were. 

He was still slowly easing into telling his father, still not fully ready to open up to him. Keith didn’t know when Lance would eventually tell him, but he did know that he would _definitely_ be there for him when he eventually did.

While Lance’s father still had not much to do with Lance, and even less with Keith, Maria had decided not only to take Keith under her motherly wing, but also Shiro once learning that his mother had died all those years ago. It was nice to have a motherly figure back in both of their lives, and Shiro was grateful for her stepping in and helping to organise the wedding, because neither Shiro nor Curtis knew how to organise such a thing to save their lives.

“Earth to Keith,” Lance pretended to knock on Keith’s head, smiling. He noticed James had ran off, now having a conversation with Pidge, his throwing his arms around dramatically while she laughed. “You okay?” He asked, and Keith revelled in the small, easy smile on his lips. Lance’s smiles came so _easily_ to him now, and from what Marco had told him on days that Lance had disappeared to play football outside with his young nephew, leaving Keith to talk to Marco inside, _this_ was the Lance that they all remembered. The Lance who found light in everything.

And it was true; he radiated the bright light of the afternoon sun, his eyes glistening and soaking in the rays like the surface of a lake, so bright and full of _life_

All Keith could think of was _how_ he’d gotten so lucky.

Keith smiled, thumb brushing against the tanned skin of his cheek, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

Lance’s cheeks tinted pink and his smile grew wider - if that was even _possible -_ as he lead them through the crowd to Shiro. Shiro was now locked in arms with Curtis, the two smiling widely, their white suits almost glowing in the sunlight. Keith was glad that _finally_ they’d managed to scrape together enough money to have a wedding. 

They deserved it, and though Keith knew that he’d always feel that empty ache in his chest whenever he thought of Adam, he also knew that there was another space filled for Curtis. Curtis, and Shiro, _deserved_ to have this, to be together. He was so, _so_ happy for them. 

 

-

 

James had left the whole photograph ordeal that came after the ceremony, just after getting a quick photo with Keith first, to quickly prepare for the show later. When Shiro had asked why he was leaving so soon, James had somehow suddenly become a _terrible_ liar and stuttered his way through a meager excuse that he’d been called into work. Shiro didn’t buy any of it, but he’d let James go, at least. 

Keith _wished_ he could have escaped with James, somehow, because he _hated_ photos. Shiro knew that, and had said all he had to do was get in one with him, Curtis, and Curtis’s sister, and one of him and Lance. 

Lance apparently hadn’t gotten that memo. He’d dragged him into _every single photo_ because Lance _loved_ being in photos, apparently.

“Come _on,_ I need more photos of us two and this is my only chance!” Lance muttered, dragging Keith back after trying to escape from a photo of only him and Lance. Lance was trying to usher Veronica and his mother into the shot with them both. 

Shiro had laughed, watching it all unfold, ignoring Keith’s cries for help, the _bastard._

Keith was sure his smile turned closer to a grimace as the afternoon drifted by, but he endured it all because Lance was so _excited_ and happy, and he didn’t want to dampen his mood. 

 

-

 

_Finally_ the camera was put away and they all travelled back to the venue. Keith and Lance got there first, thanks to Keith practically carrying Lance to his bike as soon as the camera was put away, wanting to escape as soon as possible. 

When they’d gotten there, they were ushered inside by James, who’s hair was ragged and he was nervously chewing on his lip, completely stressed-out. 

Keith immediately took to quickly restringing James’s guitar for him, because in his nervousness he’d broken one, and had apparently _forgotten_ to bring strings with him this morning. (Thankfully Keith knew what James was like and had a packet on hand).

When Shiro had finally arrived with Curtis - Maria had managed to stall them both when Lance had text her to tell them they needed some time while MFE’s finished their sound check - everything was set out perfectly and Matt had put on the playlist Lance and Keith had spent the better part of their evening last night making.

Lance had tried dragging Keith to dance with him throughout the evening, and Keith had found himself being twirled around by Lance as he strutted around the hall with perfectly thought out dance moves, somehow managing to dance properly while also guiding an awkward, stiff-limbed boyfriend to do the same. 

When Keith had finally managed to tear himself away from Lance, he finally had a chance to sit with Shiro alone. He was watching Curtis, who was dancing with his elder sister, a love-struck expression on his face. Keith was doing very much the same thing watching Lance dance with his mother, but he managed to tear his attention away long enough to give Shiro a smile. 

“I’m so happy for you, Shiro. You deserve this, after everything,” Keith mumbled, a little awkwardly. Shiro smiled, his cheeks flushed a little from the alcohol. _Everyone_ had been buying both Curtis and Shiro drinks, and they were both too nice to refuse, so they were very quickly becoming more and more intoxicated as the night went on. 

Shiro simply smiled and pulled Keith into a bone crushing hug. “Thank you, Keith,” he mumbled, before the shriek of a guitar tore them apart, and they both witnessed James bulldoze the stage as the music faded out. 

“HI EVERYONE!” He yelled, waving frantically as his other band members followed a little more calmly. “We’re going to play some songs now. Keith, Shiro, if I din’t see you guys up and dancing to our amazing music I’m coming down there and dragging you _both_ on stage.”

Keith raised his hands in surrender and got to his feet as James rambled on about the first song they were going to play. Shiro followed, giving Keith a curious look. 

“James insisted on playing a set for you guys,” Keith shrugged. “Maria heard and, well, when she gets an idea in her head it’s impossible to talk her out of it. Kinda like Lance.”

“It’s perfect, Keith,” Shiro beamed. “Wanna show the room how shit we both are at dancing?”

“Gladly,” Keith laughed, following him back into the dance floor. 

 

-

 

Keith had ended up having Shiro stolen from him by Curtis not even five minutes after they’d gotten up. Lance had ditched Pidge to go back to dancing with Keith a little more, until he spotted Shiro and Curtis subtly cutting into the cake with Hunk taking a couple of photos - because of _course_ they didn’t want to make a scene out of it. 

Hunk and his mothers had worked hard together to make the cake, and it looked _amazing_ , so he just _had_ to drag Lance over because his second biggest fear of the night was that the cake was going to run out before he got a slice. 

Keith had kept an eye on Lance’s alcohol intake through the night, not wanting him to get to the stage where his decision making would be effected. Lance was sensible, though, mainly because Keith had a rule that he wouldn’t _ever_ drive Lance home on his motorbike if he was anything more than tipsy. He was still a nervous driver as it was, and some days he’d put on his helmet ready to go out, and he just _couldn’t_ ride. 

Those days, Lance would simply smile, tell him it was okay, and drive them where they needed to be.

Today, though, whether he felt like he was going to vomit Hunk’s amazing cake back up or not, he _needed_ to drive them. So, when it began to get late, and Shiro and Curtis themselves were taking their leave, Keith dragged Lance around the hall to say goodbye to everyone, got a tight hug and a murmured ‘good luck!’ From James, Keith dragged Lance onto his motorbike with the lie that they were both going home to get some rest because they had a shift at the guitar shop together.

Instead, Keith pointedly drove _past_ their apartment block, and carried on through the streets. Lance tried tapping him on the shoulder, probably to signal they missed their turning, but Keith ignored him, shouting a ‘trust me!’ And hoping he heard it. 

 

-

 

 

 

It was a clear sky tonight, which made it even better as Keith soared up the hill, the tree branches threatening to swipe at them both as they brushed past. Keith remembered wearily the last time he had done this, how Lance was at his lowest, how he’d almost _lost_ him. 

Even though the thought of another reality where Kieth had arrived there too late, where Lance had slipped away from him riddled his nightmares and conscious thoughts, his therapist had always told him to focus on _this_ reality, where Lance was here, he was getting better, getting happier. Sure, there were days in the past where Lance was relapsing and wanted to fall back, and it was an uphill battle trying to convince him that he was _strong_ and could fight through it. There were days where Keith would have to cover his shift at the shop because he was too high strung and anxious, or couldn’t see a reason for getting out of bed in the morning. There were times where Keith felt like he was back with the old Lance who was just completely _lifeless_ and exhausted all the time, but those days were becoming few and far between, and Keith was so proud of him for coming this far. 

It had been hard for the both of them, and there had been nights were Keith had slept back in his old room at Shiro’s, and Lance at his mothers after an argument, but they’d always been sure to meet up the next day with clear heads to talk it out - no matter if Shiro and Maria had to drag them both together kicking and screaming. 

No matter what obstacle they faced, so far, they’d managed to do it together. In particular, the misunderstanding about Keith 'cheating' on Lance. When Lance had first woken, he'd at first been hesitant speaking to Keith. Lance's mother and Veronica had left them both alone while Keith explained exactly what had happened, and through he was frustrated that Lance would think of him so lowly, he did understand that Lance wasn't in the right state of mind at the time - and he'd been hurt like that before, so it was no wonder that was what his mind first went to. If only he'd just gone and _talked_ to Keith first, before assuming the worst. 

   Lance understood that - Keith wouldn't allow him _not_ to, and since that day they'd vowed to just  _talk_ to each other whenever they had a problem. From the time Lance had approached Keith after being discharged and opening up to him about how he still felt guilty and to blame for Keith being attacked by Sendak that night (Keith had spent _hours_ convincing Lance that none of it was his fault, that Sendak would have probably attacked Keith whether they had history or  _not_ ), to Lance helping Keith, along with his therapy sessions, finally come to terms with Adam’s death enough to let him _go_ , to helping him find joy in riding his bike around the city again.

Keith owed the rest of his life to Lance, and that was exactly what he planned on giving him. 

 

-

 

They arrived at the hilltop, the wind billowing in their hair as they removed their helmets. 

“Uh, Keith? I thought you were tired?” Lance asked as he removed his helmet, his curled locks of hair flopping overhis eyes. He pushed it away, his eyes soaking up the light of the moon. Keith had lost his breath for a second, because this man in front of him was _beautiful._ Not just because of the glinting starlight that seemed to dance across soft features, the freckles dusted across his nose in a similar pattern to the stars above. Not only for the untamed locks of hair or the softness of his skin - so well looked after with long and complicated care-routines that stole the better part of the morning.

He was also beautiful for the warm smiles that could melt away the coldest of days, the laughter that was like a cluster of sparks in the dark. How he could laugh, and dance, and sing after witnessing his whole _world_ \- his family, _himself_ \- crumble before his eyes. He was strong, and brave, and Keith wanted no one else to share his future with.

So, when Lance had left Keith to his daze and stared out at the beautiful scene before them - the clear night showing thousands of stars hung up above them, the thousands of star-like lights glimmering in the city below, Keith had bowed down on one knee to the one star he felt was the brightest of all of them.

“Keith, this is beautiful and all, it really never gets old up here, but uh, is there a-“ Lance’s words caught in his throat as he turned, a hand shooting up to cover his mouth as tears glistened in his eyes.

“Lance, would you allow me to spend the rest of my life with you?”

Keith was never a man for words, and he knew he could never find the right ones to express how much Lance meant to him, but god, would he try and _show_ him just a fraction of how important he was to Keith.

And Lance looked back at him, with tears streaming down his cheeks, as though Keith himself had painted the stars shining above their heads.

“ _Yes_ ,” he whispered, “god, yes, Keith! I…” Lance rushed and smothered Keith in a hug, lifting him off his feet. They span and whirled and laughed, completely lost in each others embrace until -

Until Lance tripped, and with undignified screeches, they both collapsed to the floor in a heap. 

Lance flinched, expecting Keith to be upset because Lance had, inevitably, ruined their moment. Instead, Keith lifted himself up to straddle Lance, rubbing his forehead with a small grimace. He looked to Lance, dazed for a second, before bursting into laughter. 

Lance hesitated, before laughing himself, Keith’s head dropping back to his chest. 

And through the melody of their laughter, Lance leaned forward to kiss Keith. “I love you so much, Keith,” Lance mumbled between kisses. 

“I love you too,” Keith smiled. “I owe you so much.

“You owe me nothing,” Lance smiled, before tapping Keith on the nose. “Except the $10 you borrowed from me yesterday for your lunch.”

“Alright, Lance McClain, singer, songwriter, _asshole_ ,” Keith huffed with a smile. “I’ll give it back eventually. Now shut up, you’re ruining the moment, _again_.”

And in that moment, Keith had finally _let go_ from where he dangled over the edge of the cliff, joining Lance as he tumbled over the edge. But, instead of inevitably plummeting to the jagged rocks below like they had both first thought, they flew, and soared, and _lived._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, everyone! Thank you all so much for commenting, reading, giving kudos. It means so much that people actually liked this fic! I didn't think anyone would read it, let alone it get 3,000 hits!! So thank you all so much. 
> 
> I'm currently planning out another Klance fic! If you want to see small exerts of it while I'm writing, or want to know when I finally start posting it, or even just say hi, go give my tumblr a follow ;) https://tumblingoverboard.tumblr.com/
> 
> I don't use it as much but I also have a twitter, @ItsYaBoiKeith_ , if that's your preferred social meeds :)
> 
> Again thank you all so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this little fic of mine <3

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me at my new voltron blog here!: https://tumblingoverboard.tumblr.com/ I'll be posting anything new I'm working on and exerts from this story there, probably. :)
> 
> This fic has a playlist I like to listen to when I write it! If you're interested in listening to some new music/want a couple of easter eggs, the link is here!: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5QDQmvKpbGRtOdwv0fpz0l?si=CL0NXEHgTf2-BhB5mkR4yg


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